


Bad Things

by EllaBesmirched (El_Bell)



Series: Wrath of Love [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ben's support system is unreal, Butt Plugs, Cat and Mouse, Depictions of crime scenes, Detective Ben Solo, Dom/sub Play, Dominant Armitage Hux, Edging, Ex-Army Ranger Hux, Hux Has No Chill, Hux is Not Nice, It's Hux. Hux is in control., Knows what's on your mind, Kylux - Freeform, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Games, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Past Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sniper Armitage Hux, Space Mom I love you, Spanking, Submissive Kylo Ren, Tattooed Hux is the best Hux, This tag only exists because I don't want the last tag to be 'butt plugs', Who is in control?, but they sound so, i just, inelegant, it's fine Ben loves it, so much Shakespeare, they're nice ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 100,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Bell/pseuds/EllaBesmirched
Summary: Detective Ben Solo has never met a crime scene he can't read like an open book. That is, until The General killings started.





	1. Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Ben is in for some trouble, y'all. Someone help him.

 

Ben was late again. The ‘you done fucked up’ alarm he had set with the most obnoxious sound his phone could make shot through his head. When he looked at it, he had three missed calls from the chief.

Fuck.

He was out the door before he was fully conscious. He popped a stick of gum in the cab, dragged his fingers through his hair, checked his shirt for stains.

The moment he walked through the door, Poe met him with a black coffee.

“You look like shit.”

“Overslept.”

“You reek of alcohol.”

Ben rolled his eyes and lifted an arm to check and… yeah. Poe was right. He smelled like a barroom floor.

“Chief's pissed you're late. Your new partner is waiting.”

Ben burned his tongue on the coffee, but it took some of the fuzziness out of his head. “Fucking christ, this shit again?”

“You need a partner, Ben,” Poe muttered in exasperation.

“We were a good team.”

Poe shrugged. “Not good enough. Shit happens, Benny. Get in there before Skywalker murders you.”

Ben made a face and pushed open the door to the Chief's office.

He wasn’t happy. He stared up at Ben with his mouth in a thin line and sheer _disappointment_ in his eyes. “Benjamin.”

Ben shrugged with one shoulder. “Traffic.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. When he finally moved, it was to motion to someone sitting behind Ben on a bench and he said, “Ben Solo, meet your new partner.” Ben whirled around and tried not to let his sheer disbelief show.

His ‘new partner’ was a little girl. At least she looked that way. She was shorter than Ben by at least six inches, slight and lithe and, in Ben’s honest opinion, far too pretty to be in law enforcement. A face like that belonged somewhere with a...more lax dress code and no chance of acquiring a broken nose.

She bounced to her feet, a wide smile on her face, and stuck out her hand, talking over the chief before he could finish introducing her. “Rey Kenobi, Detective Solo. I’m so pleased to meet you.” Ben grudgingly stuck out his hand, and Rey shook it with a grin.

“Ben,” Luke said, smiling, “I think you and Kenobi will be a good team. I--”

Ben cut him off. “You’re joking right?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“No, I mean.” Ben turned and glared pointedly at Rey before looking back to Luke. “I need a partner who can watch my back. If you would just reassign Poe--”

“Dameron doesn’t _want_ to partner with you anymore, Ben. He’s happy with his K9 unit. You’re the one who screwed--” Luke paused deliberately and Ben felt his ears go red. “That up so I don’t have much of a choice in having to reassign you. Kenobi’s green but she’s got promise. She needs a teacher.”

“I don’t--” Rey began sharply.

Ben groaned loudly. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, kid,” Luke muttered, sounding alarmingly like his ex-brother-in-law. Ben scowled and pretended not to see the way the girl was glaring at him, arms crossed over her thin chest.

“I’ve got a body for you two. You’re lucky, Ben. I almost gave Phasma and Finn first dibs, you were so late.”

Ben sipped his coffee and tried to ignore his burned tongue. “What is it?”

Luke’s lips got thin. “From the looks of it, another General murder. But something’s off. I’m a little worried we might have a copy cat on our hands. His name is Snoke. He’s a businessman, runs a company called First Order Acquisitions. Cause of death appears identical, but choice of victim is a real deviation for the General. Here’s the file. You and Kenobi get on it now.”  
“A copy cat,” Ben muttered, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting as he studied the sparse file. “It would have to be a damn good copy. His crime scenes are immaculate. I don’t even think I could leave a scene that flawless.” Ben paused, eyes glazing as he looked at the page. That was an odd thing to say.

When he lifted his head, Luke was staring at him thoughtfully. “Then our guy has branched out. Whatever the case, I trust you’ll figure it out.” Luke smiled and Ben tried not to squirm in discomfort. Luke had a habit of making Ben feel guilty for every misstep he’d ever taken in his life just by smiling at him. He really shouldn’t have been so late.

“Yes, sir.” Ben turned and tugged the door open, motioned for Rey to go first. She marched out, head stiff on her neck, a slight chill that was most certainly directed at Ben sparkling in her eyes.

“And Ben?” Luke added in an undertone before Ben could follow her. “Take a shower.” Ben grunted; Luke frowned at him. “Your mother is worried about you.”

Ben groaned at the ceiling and shut the door on Rey. “She has nothing to be worried about, Uncle Luke. I’m fine. The world doesn’t come crashing down around my ears every time someone breaks up with me.”

Luke shrugged. “We both know Poe’s not just anyone. Are you sure you don’t want to take a few days off? Just to get your head in order.”

“We broke up _six months ago_ . I’m a _grown man._ I’m _fine._ And I have a serial killer to catch. One mom is enough for me, alright?”

“Alright, alright. And Ben? Take it easy on Kenobi. She’s got a lot of promise.”

“By Kenobi, do you mean--? I mean, it’s not exactly a common name.”

“His granddaughter.”

Ben nodded, head spinning a little. “I thought he didn’t have kids.”

“So did I. I guess we were wrong.”

Ben stared at Luke for a long moment and then silently stepped out.

He had a stick of deodorant in his desk. He had to fish around for it, knock aside the flask he kept in his bottom drawer, and the gum, the bottle of pills, and a pile of empty chip bags and office supplies he hadn’t cleaned out in God knew how long.

He yanked his shirt up, stridently avoiding acknowledging the way Rey was glaring at him with her arms crossed, and swiped the stick under his arms to hopefully cover up the scent of metabolizing liquor with something that apparently smelled like ‘Eagle Claw.’ Whatever the fuck that meant.

When he lowered his shirt, she was staring at him with her pert little nose wrinkled. “Do you always wear jeans and a T-shirt to work?”

Ben scowled and noticed for the first time how well dressed she was-- her brown hair was pulled back in a weird little braid that looked like it had three levels, and she was wearing a perfectly pressed white button-up over tan slacks and what he imagined was a very stylish gauzy...open shirt… thing. He always forgot what those were called.

“Only when I’m trying to piss the Chief off,” he replied, dropping the deoderant back in the drawer and fishing out the pill bottle.

Rey snorted and Ben glanced at her in surprise. So she had a sense of humor at least. That was something.

“Hey, Solo! Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Ben looked up to find Phasma standing at her desk and leering at Rey with a truly terrifying expression on her face.

Rey lifted her brows and tilted her head back to track Phasma’s head, hovering about a foot above her own.

“Rey, Phasma, Phasma, Rey,” Ben drawled, dry swallowing four excedrin and kicking the drawer closed.

“Hi!” Rey said brightly.

“Well, aren’t you adorable!” Phasma said cheerfully.

Rey scowled. “I wouldn’t say--”

“Leave her alone, Phasma,” a bright voice said from somewhere by Phasma’s elbow. “She’s already got Ben to deal with, she doesn’t need you too.” Finn took a step forward, holding out his hand, and said, “I’m Finn!”

Poe was next, bounding across the room with BB-8’s leash in his hand and a huge grin on his face that Ben noticed didn’t fully reach his eyes. Rey shook all the hands that were thrust at her, smiled, repeated each name as it was spoken.

Ben flipped through the folder while he waited for her to make the rounds. Rey spent the most time crouched on the ground, scratching BB-8 behind the ears.

Ben couldn’t help glancing at the german shepherd with a bit of malice. It wasn’t her fault Poe had decided he’d rather partner with a dog than with Ben, but it still didn’t endear her to him.

He’d always been a cat person anyway.

“If you’re done playing with mutts,” he said finally, sparing Poe a decidedly vicious look, “We’ve got a case to get on. So.”

“Oh, _now_ you’re in a hurry?” Rey demanded startling laughter from all three of the people standing in front of her.

Ben scowled again. “I mean, the guy’s not getting any _deader_ I guess. Maybe a little riper.”

Poe cleared his throat and muttered, “And speaking of ripe.”

Ben shoved off from his desk and pushed through all of them. He shouldn’t have made fun of Poe’s stupid dog. But _still._

By the time he hit the sidewalk, Rey had caught up to him. “The Chief said this was a General case? You’re working on the General case?”

“Yeah. It’s mine. I mean we’re all working on it, but I’m the lead. What do you know?”

“Just what’s been in the papers. Guy carves stars on the shoulders of the people he’s killed?”

Ben nodded grimly. “Anywhere from one to four stars on each shoulder. We still don’t know why. There doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern to it.” There hadn’t been much the papers hadn’t said-- mostly because Ben hadn’t found much of anything at any of the crime scenes. All six of the victims were different-- there were four men, and two women, all of varying race, and age. They were all petty criminals-- that was the only thing they seemed to have in common, but even the crimes were different. Drug offenses, DWI, domestic assault, theft, prostitution, the list went on.

But it looked like the newest body was going to fuck up even that almost-pattern.

“You drive?” he asked her.

“Yeah, why?”

“You can drive. We’re heading to the crime scene.”

“What, you don’t drive?”

Ben rolled his shoulder. “I don’t have a car.” That had been the agreement. Luke would make the DWI disappear if Ben put down the keys for a while. He’d parked his Honda Civic SI at his mother’s and hadn’t touched it in nearly half a year.

“Weird,” Rey said brightly, wrinkling her nose. “Car’s this way.”

Ben followed her.  
  
~~~  


Rey drove a Volkswagon Beetle. Ben actually swore when she clicked her keys and the canary yellow bug beeped in response.

“What?” she demanded.

“Figures you drive a fucking VW bug.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just… not very… detective-y, is all.”

“Detective-y.”

“Yeah. Detective-y.”

“And ripped jeans and a t-shirt are?”

“Hey, fuck you, alright? I had a late night.”

Rey smirked at him and climbed into her car. Ben was forced to follow.

He barely fit. His broad shoulders and long legs didn’t quite want to fold into the bubble of the passenger seat. Maybe he would quit drinking. Just long enough for Luke and Leia and fucking _Poe_ to stop trying to claim he had a problem. Ben could drive his own fucking car, for Christ’s sake.  


Like he gave a shit what they thought anyway.

“So how come you and Poe split?” Rey asked the second the door closed.

“What?” Ben asked, startled.

“Dameron? Not your partner anymore? How come?”

Ben peered sullenly out the window as Rey pulled out of the parking deck and maneuvered onto the street. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated like _actually complicated_ or complicated like you two were boning and then you broke up?”

Ben turned his head and peered at her in absolute amazement.

Rey grinned. “So the second one then. Thought so.”

“Why. How. Why would you think that?”

“You mean aside from the Chief's comment about ‘screwing?’ Dameron’s got tells. When he introduced himself, he was smiling but not with his whole face. And he only looked at you when he was insulting you. And he stared at your ass when you stormed out.”

Ben made a sound that was half disbelieving and half impressed.

“And every time someone brings him up you look like you want to punch them. And then when you said you didn’t want a new partner--”

“Alright, fuck, I got it, you can read people. Jesus.” Ben shook his head, disconcerted. He’d never been on the receiving end of such a read before-- usually it was him freaking out some new acquaintance or a suspect with his uncanny ability to tell what someone was thinking just by looking at them. Now he almost felt bad for them, if it had felt anything like _that_ had.

“So what happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?”

“Like, did he dump you, you dump him, what happened?”

“You want me to _gossip?_ ”

“We’re partners now, right?”

“I guess.”

“So partners talk. Let’s talk.”

Ben smiled in spite of himself. Rey was charming. Sharp. Confident. Not afraid of him-- and that was impressive because most people found him at least a little intimidating on a good day and he’d been doing his damndest to be as offputting as possible since he’d met her, but she hadn’t budged. He watched her turn the wheel from the corner of his eye and decided maybe the Chief hadn’t intended the assignment as punishment after all. Maybe she really did need a teacher. And poor time management skills aside, Ben was a stellar detective. He could teach her a lot. “Things don’t always work out,” he said finally. “And it’s no one’s fault--”

“So it was your fault?”

“I just _said--”_

“You don’t like to accept responsibility for your personal life.”

“Fuck you. You don’t know me,” he snapped, squeezing the coffee cup a little too tightly. “I take back all the nice things I just thought about you.”

Rey grinned. “Aww, you think nice things about me?”

“Not anymore I don’t! Fuck.”

It really was disconcerting, having someone practically pulling thoughts out of his head like that. Maybe he should do it to her and see how she liked it.

“Turn here,” he muttered grudgingly, watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Hamilton is the other way--” Rey began but Ben cut her off with a tsk.

“Yeah, I know. Turn here.”

Rey narrowed her eyes again, but complied. Ben had her park in front of his apartment building. “I’ll be fifteen minutes. Just wait.”

“You want me to just _sit here?”_

“Or come in, whatever, fuck if I care,” he called over his shoulder, swinging the door closed and rushing inside. Rey huffed but didn’t follow him.

When he climbed back into the car exactly fifteen minutes later, her eyes went wide.

Ben flipped down the mirror on the sun visor, tugged his still sopping wet hair into a passable ponytail and muttered, “Detective-y enough for you?”

“You clean up good, Solo,” she replied, lips pulling down in appreciation as she surveyed him.

Ben shrugged. He hadn’t had time to shave so he still looked a little rougher than he should considering they were about to get mobbed by the press the second they pulled up to the crime scene. But with his hair pulled back, and his standard black slacks/button-up/tie combo, he certainly looked more presentable than he had when he’d rolled into the station, still crumbled into last night's wrinkled t-shirt with his tangled hair falling into his eyes.

When Rey parked her car, Ben was genuinely impressed by the amount of reporters thronging around the office building clamoring for a scoop. She actually balked when she saw them all and Ben muttered, “Better get used to it. These vultures will be circling until we catch this guy.” He didn’t mention that he thought that could be a lot longer than normal, if this crime scene was anything like the others-- completely devoid of anything worth looking into.

He was assaulted with his name the second his feet hit the sidewalk. “Detective Solo! Ben Solo! Detective!” He silently shoved through the crowd, a very unnerved Rey close on his heels falling into the path he opened up with his huge shoulders. “Can you confirm that the General has killed again, Detective Solo? Do you have any new leads? Detective Solo! Solo! Solo!”

Ben wanted to smash his hands over his ears so he wouldn’t have to listen to them squawk. Instead, he grunted, “Can I get to the goddamn scene please?” and the last few reporters dumb enough to be blocking his path and shoving microphones at his face fell back. The officers barring the door stepped aside wordlessly when Ben approached. It always gave him a jolt of pleasure, when that happened. Seeing people bounce to attention at his presence, step aside, make room for him, let him into restricted areas without even checking his badge. Recognizing him.  

It was quieter inside the building, even with the CSI team bustling around, swooping in and out of doors, cataloging all the evidence they could find.

The actual crime scene was on the top floor. Ben punched the button in the elevator and Rey leaned against the wall. “Are they always like that?”

“What, the reporters?” Rey nodded. Ben shrugged. “With this case they are. Get used to it. They’ll know your name too, as soon as they figure out I’m not working with Poe anymore.”

Rey pulled a face like she was tasting something sour.

The elevator doors pinged open and Ben smelled blood. The coppery tang was heavy in the air and he felt his vision narrowing as he stepped out into the tiny hallway and looked toward the door marked with a distinguished, ‘Snoke.’  


The coroner was waiting for them.

“His name is Snoke,” he said as soon as Ben and Rey stepped off the elevator. “Seventy six years old, found early this morning. Rigor and lividity put time of death around ten PM last night. Definitely a General kill.”

Ben rolled the gum between his teeth and muttered, “Let me be the judge of that.”

The coroner shrugged. “Well, it sure looks like him. Aside from a few… differences.”

Ben scowled. “What kind of differences?”

“I’ll let you see for yourself. Other than that, everything physically is exactly the same as the others.” He began to tick off his fingers. “Same cut to the carotid. Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles, but no other major physical trauma. And I’d bet good money toxicology will look exactly like the others.”

Ben jerked his chin, already losing the thread of the conversation to the overwhelming understanding that there was a body one room over. A sea of blood staining an expensive carpet. A dossier on the man who’d committed the crime, if only Ben could figure out what to look for.

“What did the others look like?” Rey interrupted, staring boldly at the coroner.

The coroner blinked at her. “Who are you?” he asked, as if noticing her for the first time. He jerked his head and looked at Ben. “Where’s Poe?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “With his dog.”

“I’m Rey Kenobi,” Rey inserted, voice much firmer than it had been with the other detectives. “I’m Ben’s new partner.”

The coroner nodded. “Uh, right. The other reports. They’re all over the place. Varying instances of alcohol and drug use, varying medications. But nothing unexpected, really. If the General is using anything to knock these people out before he kills them, it doesn’t show up on our reports.”

“You think he’s subduing them first. Why?”

Ben straightened and crossed his arms over his chest while the coroner gave Rey a very patronizing look.

Rey’s eyes narrowed. When no one spoke, she paused, thoughtful, and then said, “No other physical trauma? But he’s an old man. How hard could it be to tie him down?”

“Our youngest victim was a twenty two year old bodybuilder on coke,” Ben supplied. “And just like this guy, he had no other external signs of trauma. None of them did. So.”

“So he’s either knocking them out before hand or luring them into the chair,” Rey finished with a nod. “How would he do that? Lure them?”

Ben shrugged. “Short of a gun, I have no idea. But it’d be difficult to keep it trained on them while he tied them up. And at this point, the whole city’s on edge about this guy. Someone’s bound to fight back.”

Rey fell silent, eyes glazing with thought and Ben turned around. “Anything else we should know?”

The corner shook his head. “Those are the highlights, but trust me, you really gotta see this guy.” Ben nodded and headed for the door, Rey close on his heels. “And Solo!” Ben paused with his hand on the door. “Tell Dameron not to be a stranger.”

Ben grunted to hide his scowl and pushed inside.

Snoke’s office was huge. It spanned half of the top floor, with broad tinted windows ranging along three walls. The click of flashing cameras and the low drone of investigators talking filled the air. Ben stepped into the room and the noises faded. The investigators standing in his way cleared a space and by the time he reached the middle of the room, they’d all gone quiet. Watching him.

Rey muttered, “What--” but then Finn, who was standing in the corner with Phasma, hissed, “Shh!” and she fell silent too.

Good. He could think now.

The steady pulsing in his head that had been irking him all morning faded. The nausea twisting his stomach dimmed.

What had the General left for him this time?

First: What was the same?

The body was tied to a luscious rolling chair that probably cost more than Ben made in a month. The ropes holding it down appeared to be the same ropes he had used with the last six-- non-descript, sturdy, thin twine looped until it formed thick coils and tied viciously tight.

The thick carpet was drenched in a sea of clotting blood. It spread out from the chair behind the desk in a thick wave and filled the air with an unmistakable scent.

Snoke was dressed in expensive slacks and shoes, but naked from the waist up; the button-up he’d been wearing was crumpled in his lap where it’d been pushed after being cut from his shoulders. His chin was tucked to his chest, and a thick trail of blood drained from his neck down onto the carpet. As Ben stared, he saw it perfectly: a silver blade dipping into the neck, quick and light and effortless, followed by impossibly huge spurts of crimson. One. Two. Three. Dead in seconds instead of minutes.

Like killing an animal. Cold. Removed. _I am the hunter. This is my pray._ Snoke was nothing more than a disgusting, dim, lowly creature that needed to be disposed of.  But _why?_

The blade sparkled. The head fell, chin tucking to chest. He cut aside the shirts with quick, efficient slices, and then carved the shoulders. Five slices per star. In Snoke’s case, five stars per shoulder. These new cuts didn’t even bleed-- their hearts had already mostly emptied the bodies for him. There was very little left to ooze from the curls of flesh peeling up from the victim’s shoulder blades. This part was almost… clean. Satisfying. A ritual that demanded completion because it was nothing if not--

Deserved.

And why did they deserve it? What did the stars _mean?_

Ben stopped and his eyes jolted back up to the shoulders.

_Five stars?_

He laughed out loud and didn’t realize it as he stepped forward, tiptoed behind the chair where he could peer at the body without getting blood (Snoke’s _filthy, disgusting blood)_ on his shoes and disturbing the scene.

_Why did I give you five? What makes you so special?_

Someone cleared their throat and Ben realized belatedly he’d spoken out loud. But before he could return to himself enough to be concerned by that, he noticed something else.

“Get the coroner back in here,” he snarled, voice low and harsh. The _absolute idiot._

“Detective Solo?” Ben lifted his head the second he heard the other man enter the room and speak.

“Get over here.” The coroner hesitated by the door, eyes wide and white, like a rabbit staring at a large dog. Good. He _should_ be scared. Ben actually snarled wordlessly-- because _the idiot should have fucking noticed_ and Ben was _surveying a scene,_ for Christ’s sake and now he had to _stop_ to consult the _expert_ and that was enough to make him laugh out loud, calling that idiot a _fucking expert._

Ben was distantly aware of Phasma, humming low in her throat, and it took him out enough to remind him to take a breath, to calm down.

Someone hissed at the coroner and the man finally stepped over, hesitant, afraid to get to close to Ben when Ben was staring at him like that. He moved more carefully the closer he came, delicately fitting his feet in the spaces that weren’t covered in blood, and leaning away from Ben when Ben didn’t move out of his way. Ben hissed, “Look at his neck.”

“I--” The coroner’s voice cut off and then he said, “Oh, _shit.”_

“What?” Phasma broke the silence the rest of the onlookers were stuck in.

“You’re the expert,” Ben snapped, making the word sound like an insult. “What do you see?”

“Bruising,” the coroner replied. “Bruising around the throat consistent with--”

“An arm,” Ben concluded.

“Clue us in, Ben,” Phasma said loudly.

Ben stepped out from behind the body and said, “Finn, come here. Stand here. Yeah, right here.” Finn eyed him suspiciously, but did as he said. When Ben lifted his arms and wrapped them around Finn’s neck, Phasma whistled.

“That would be consistent with this bruising,” the coroner muttered, nose inches from the body.

“A motherfucking rear naked?” Phasma said incredulously. “That’s how he’s knocking them out?”

“You said the other bodies didn’t have this type of bruising,” Rey interrupted.

Ben grinned. “Snoke is old. He’d bruise easier. And this kind of choke, it’s not restricting the airway. It’s restricting blood flow. You can knock a grown man out like this in…” Ben shrugged, and tightened his arms, counting in his head.

Finn tapped his wrist, once, twice, then for one frantic second, tried to curl his fingers around Ben’s thick arm. Then he went limp.

“Twelve seconds,” Ben said brightly.

Phasma crossed the room in two huge strides and punched Ben on the arm, hard. “You _ass.”_

Ben released Finn into her arms and he came to a few seconds later. The glare he leveled at Ben when he realized what had happened was perhaps the dirtiest look Ben had ever seen him give anybody, and Ben had seen him interrogate _murderers_ .  


“They’d still only be out for thirty seconds, a minute tops,” Phasma said grudgingly, helping steady Finn on his feet.

“That’s plenty of time to get them in the chair if he’s quick. And if not, he can just choke them out again. And Snoke is old. He’d probably be out longer anyway.”  Ben’s voice was getting fuzzy and distracted as he focused back on the body, but it had told him all it could until it was taken back to the morgue.

Ben lifted his eyes to the rest of the room.

Now: What was different?  
The scene itself was unique. Snoke had been a very rich and successful man-- unlike every other victim. Snoke’s office was located on the top floor of a heavily secured office building. The General had never let himself be caught on camera before, but this wasn’t a private home, or a cheap hotel or apartment building. How did he get in undetected? What would they find on the security feeds?

The office appeared completely undisturbed. Even the stacks of papers on the desk were neat and tidy.

Truly, it was _impressive._

Except.

Ranging along one of the immaculate and dust free shelves, something was missing. Ben couldn’t immediately tell how he knew. Nothing marked the spot-- it just appeared in his head, an empty hole where something had once stood.

Ben crossed the room and stared at the spot. “Something was here. And now it’s not.”

“How do you know?” Rey asked, startling him; he hadn’t realized she was standing so close.

That was unsettling. No one had snuck up on Ben in fuck if he knew how long. How had she done that exactly?

Ben shrugged. “Looks like something’s missing.”

“Yeah, but _why?”_

Ben turned his head, annoyance arcing across his features. “Look at the spacing between these photos, and his books. All of them are a similar distance apart. Except these two. The space is larger. Something about--” Ben held up both hands. “This big was sitting here and now it’s not.”

Rey blinked at him from under lowered brows and Ben rolled his eyes. He knew that expression-- it was the ‘You’re a fucking lunatic’ expression he’d come to know during his first year on the job, before everyone he worked with noticed his uncanny ability to read people and his tendency to crack complicated cases with what, to them, appeared to be little more than a lucky guess.

Ben turned to the room at large and said, “Get a few more pictures of this spot.” Someone rushed to comply and Ben glanced around one more time, making sure every aspect of the room was cataloged in his mind. Then he crossed to Phasma and Finn.

“What do you think?” he asked Phasma, eyes glossing over Finn entirely-- the other man was decidedly not pleased about being choked out.

Finn had only been in the homicide department for a few months and Ben wasn’t sure how he felt about him yet. He was friendly at least. But Ben had never liked the way Finn looked at Poe. It unsettled him, for some reason he couldn’t-- or didn’t want to-- name. If he was being honest with himself, he’d enjoyed feeling Finn go limp in his arms a little more than he should have.

Phasma shrugged a huge, muscle bound shoulder as she glared at him. Apparently Finn wasn’t the only person he’d pissed off. “As far as the scene goes, everything looks exactly the same. I mean, except for the actual location.”

“Who called it in?”

Phasma’s face lit up a little in spite of her annoyance with him. “Actually, that’s what we were waiting for you for. I can’t question the guy. He’s an old friend.”

Ben made a face. “You have _friends?”_

Phasma chuckled. “Yeah. He’s an old army buddy. Good people. He and Snoke are--were-- partners. He’s waiting in his office.”

Ben nodded. “Anything I should know?”

Phasma chuckled again and there was something vindictively amused shining in her eyes. “Have fun, is all I have to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Phasma’s lips quirked and she shrugged. “You’ll see.” She pointed at the door Ben had come in through. “He’s through there. Other side of the hall. Name’s Hux.”

Ben nodded, turned, and came to face to face with Rey, watching him with her arms crossed. Ben quirked a brow. “Something to say?”

“You were only in here for ten minutes.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you can’t possibly have thoroughly examined the scene in that time. We should--” Rey paused because Phasma was openly laughing at her and Finn was smiling at his feet. “What?”

Phasma shook her head and said, “Ben, how many books are on the shelf?”

Without turning away from Rey, Ben said, “Seventeen.”

“Windows?”

“Nine.”

“Panes in each window?”

“Twelve.”

Phasma paused, peering around the room, and Ben got to enjoy Rey gaping at him.

“Ok, how many pens are on his desk?”

Ben stared at the ceiling, counting each pen in his head, and said, “Twenty three. And four markers and six pencils.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “You have a photographic memory.”

Ben scowled. “No, I don’t. I have an eidetic memory. Photographic memory refers only to information read-- text on a page, page numbers. Eidetic memory refers to the ability to perfectly recall scenes, smells, sounds.” He shrugged and smirked arrogantly. “That sort of thing.”

Phasma chuckled indulgently behind him and said, “And he _loves_ to talk about it!”

Ben rolled his eyes and breezed past Rey, forcing her to follow him into the hallway before she could reply to Phasma. “I have an eye for crime scenes,” he explained. “With certain types of scenes, you start to learn what to look for. Things that have been added, or removed, or disordered start to jump out at you.” He paused with his hand on the door knob. “The General leaves nothing behind but the ropes. He doesn’t touch anything, move anything. He leaves everything exactly where he found it. If he left anything behind, the CSI team will find it-- fibers, hair, maybe a shoe print in the blood, but I doubt it. He’s too careful for that.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“Aside from statistical probability?” Ben paused. He hadn’t actually considered that the General could be a woman. But as soon as the thought turned over in his mind, he shook his head. “He’s not a woman.”

“How do you _know?”_

“It’s… just a feeling I guess.”

“Feelings don’t hold up in court.”

“Yeah, but the longer you work with me, the more you’ll realize my feelings tend to be right.”

Rey huffed in irritation and Ben realized for the first time how on edge she was.

Something almost like guilt flipped over in his chest. He’d been mostly ignoring her all morning-- forcing her to ask him questions, walking around like she wasn’t there, only looking at her when he absolutely had to.

He hadn’t wanted a new partner. He and Poe had been a good team. Poe knew exactly what kind of questions to ask him to get him thinking. He knew when to shut up and let Ben work.

Poe knew exactly how to sing back up to Ben’s lead. But if Luke wanted Ben to _teach_ Rey, he couldn’t expect her to just trot at his heels all day, could he?

Fuck, he was too hungover for this.  

“Look, this is a shitty case to come in on. Let’s question this guy and we can review the photos from the other scenes together when we get back to the station, alright?”

Rey’s shoulders relaxed and she nodded. “Thank you.”

Ben jerked his chin in response and threw open the door.

A single uniformed officer was sitting the corner, boredly watching the man bent at his desk, sketching something.

The office was almost as big as Snoke’s, but it had a certain style to it, a minimalism that Ben found attractive compared to the overbearing traditionalism of Snoke’s office.

His eyes flicked around the room once, taking in the book shelves, the degrees hanging on the walls, the lack of anything truly personal, and then settled on the man at the desk.

He put down his pencil and lifted his head.

When his eyes met Ben’s a splash of cold darted up Ben’s spine, but before he could grab it and assess it, it was replaced with a burning heat in the pit of his stomach.

The man sitting before him was nothing short of beautiful. He stood up when Ben stepped into the room, and Ben actually drew up short. It was rare that Ben found another person so attractive as to actually cause him pause, so the feeling-- the sudden jump in his chest, the lump in his throat, the strange swoop in his stomach-- was thrilling and unexpected.

He was Ben’s height almost exactly, but smaller, thinner, more lightly built, and with pale skin that looked like it would bruise like a peach with just the right touch. And his eyes. Fuck, his eyes. They were green. Or maybe blue. The same crystal color only found when peering down to the bottom of an almost clear ocean.

There was a spray of freckles splashed across his nose and they were the only softness in him. His orange hair (Ben thought of peaches again) was combed from his face into a perfect part. His posture was as perfect and immaculate as his hair. The only part of him that wasn’t completely in order were the tips of his fingers, tinged with lead from the pencil he was using to sketch what Ben quickly noted were building plans of some sort.

He didn’t say anything. He stared at Ben and when Ben only stared back, he saw the man’s neutral expression sharpen into an almost imperceptible smirk.

The heat in Ben’s stomach turned over. Smirking suited Hux, fit on his pretty lips just a little too well.

Rey poked Ben hard in the back and he realized he’d been staring for about a split second longer than was socially acceptable. He forced his expression into something a little more intimidating and tried not to think about how happy he was that he’d made Rey take him home to shower and change before he’d come to the crime scene.

The moment Ben moved again, Hux’s smirk disappeared to be replaced with something appropriately somber. The expression was gone so quickly, Ben wondered if he’d imagined it. The same way he must have imagined the chill that darted up his spine when their eyes had first met.

His voice, when he spoke, was deeper than he meant it to be, a little husky with surprise. “Are you Hux?”

The man crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Armitage Hux, yes, that’s me.”

“You found Mr. Snoke?”

“Yes. You are?”

Ben cleared his throat. “Detective Solo, and this is my partner, Detective Kenobi.” He saw Rey hide a smile when he said the words ‘my partner.’ “I’m the lead investigator in this case. Can you tell me how you found Mr. Snoke, Mr. Hux?”

Hux came out from behind his desk and leaned against it. The position pulled his perfectly tailored charcoal button up tight against his shoulders. They were very round.

Ben forced his eyes back up, but franky, that wasn’t much better.

“I found him this morning, about seven forty five, when I got to the office.”

“Do you usually arrive at that time?”

“Yes. Seven forty five exactly, every morning. I got off the elevator and smelled blood, so I checked his office and. Well, I found him like that.”

Ben blinked and said sharply, “You smelled blood?” It wasn’t something most witnesses usually said. Most people wouldn’t even notice the scent of freshly spilled blood one room over. It had still been subtle when Ben got off the elevator and that was almost three hours after Hux had found the body.

The man smiled and the expression wasn’t at all pleasant. “Yes, I did. I’ve seen combat, Detective Solo. I’m quite familiar with the scent of… death, as it were. It’s very distinctive. So I checked his office.”

Ben nodded and tried to organize the barrage of questions sprinting through his brain. “Uh, did you touch anything when you entered the office? Try to revive him at all?”

Hux shook his head. “He was very clearly deceased. I didn’t cross the threshold. I went to my office and called the authorities.”

“So you haven’t actually been in his office since the murder?”

“No.”

Ben let his eyes track from the top of Hux’s head to the points of his shiny shoes, turning the answers to Ben’s questions over in his head.

“What is your relationship to Mr. Snoke, Mr. Hux?” Rey interjected, her voice firm and confident, and not at all like someone who was on the job for the very first time.

“We were business partners,” Hux said shrugging. “Our relationship was purely a professional one.”

“And how long have you known him?” Rey continued.

Ben crossed his arms and let her, taking this opportunity to really examine the man in front of him. There was something about him, something strange and unnerving and so goddamn attractive, it made Ben a little angry. He wasn’t used to other people having any effect on him at all. Staring at Hux made his brain feel fuzzy and he realized he was clenching his fists at his sides without meaning too.

It was a thrilling sort of feeling, a strange compulsion to peel back all Hux’s layers and see what was inside. Because Ben was sure there was something to see.  

“Eight years,” Hux said firmly. “He approached me with a business plan after I was discharged from the Army, and I agreed. We’ve been very successful together.”

“Eight years,” Rey said, her brows pulling together in what Ben knew was mock empathy. Though she played it very well. “It must have been hard for you, seeing him like that.”

Hux didn’t bite. “Hardly. Mr. Snoke was not a very endearing man.” His eyes jumped from Rey to Ben. Ben swallowed. “I wouldn’t attribute our mutual success to any bit of warmth between us.”

Rey wasn’t impressed. She leaned forward a little, and said coldly, “That was a pretty upsetting scene in there. All that blood. That didn’t bother you?”

Hux lifted his brows. “No, I’m afraid not.” He looked at Ben again and Ben saw Rey tense. Hux seemed to be giving all his answers to Ben and Ben only. “I was a sniper, in the Army. A ranger. For eight years. I am intimately acquainted with--” He paused and Ben tried not to think he’d put special emphasis on the words ‘intimately acquainted.’ Against his will, Ben felt his lips quirk when Hux smiled and said dramatically, “ _Blood_ and _death.”_ Rey scowled. Ben, however, was exceedingly amused. “You get used to it. When you’re staring at it from the end of a scope.”

Ben nodded and spoke before Rey could cut him off. She had a lot to learn before she’d be able to handle questioning a man like _Hux._ “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Mr. Snoke? Any enemies he may have made?”

Hux laughed. “Half the city could be on that list, Detective Solo. I’m sure you'll find out why when you look into his business dealings. Snoke was not a well liked man.”

“And what exactly did you and Mr. Snoke do together?”

“Our firm deals in the acquisition of properties-- mainly old apartment buildings. We buy them cheaply, knock them down, and build new, more profitable buildings in their place.”

“That you design,” Ben interrupted.

Hux smiled. “Yes.” There was a note of pride in his voice.

Ben shifted his weight and said, “First Order Acquisitions. Did you design the place on the corner of Tenth and Madison?”

Hux’s smile broadened. “Yes. That’s one of mine.”

“That’s a beautiful building. Simple, but…”

“Elegant,” Hux provided. Ben nodded. “I’m quite proud of that one.” Hux smiled at him. Ben smiled back.

Rey cleared her throat and Ben realized he was doing it again-- staring too long. “Uh, thank you for your time, Mr. Hux. We’ll leave you to your work for now, but I’d like you to come down to the station before the end of business to give your official statement.” Ben reached into his pocket and tugged one of his cards from his wallet.

“This afternoon?” Hux asked, reaching out to accept the card.

Ben nodded. “As soon as you’re free. I’m not sure how much work you’ll get done with my guys out there. And they’ll have to comb this room at some point.”

Hux’s eyes flickered. “My door was locked when I came in this morning. I lock it every evening and unlock it every morning. I’d know if someone had come in here.”

Ben gave him a commiserating smile. “Still. Protocol. You understand.”

Hux nodded and his lips quirked. “If it can’t be avoided.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Rey added coldly.

Ben tried not to roll his eyes.

He didn’t speak to her until they were in the elevator.

Her nose was wrinkled when she said, “I don’t like that guy. He gives me the creeps.”

Ben sighed dramatically. “Leave the gut feelings to me, alright?” Rey glared at him. Ben laughed. “He’s an army guy, an ex-sniper. You’re picking up on that.”

“Picking up on what?”

“You tried to read him. Like you did with me in the car. What you saw was a man comfortable around death and killing who was unaffected by a murder taking place in the office next to his. Sets off alarm bells. Most people would be visibly upset. Guys like that,” he said, thumbing toward the elevator door. “Know how to control emotions.”

“So you think he was faking?”

Ben bobbed his head. “The lead smudges on his hands. His hair, his suit, his office, all immaculate. Except for that. He noticed them when he took my card; immediately hid his hands.”

“So? What does that mean?”

“It means he _hadn’t_ noticed until then-- but someone who’s that concerned with his appearance, not a hair out of place? He doesn’t _not_ notice something like that when he meets strangers. He was distracted. Which, given the circumstances, is to be expected.”

Rey was giving him the ‘you’re a fucking lunatic’ look again.

“You’re detecting _deception,_ Rey. It’s good. You’re good. But the reason behind the deception is the important part.” The elevator dinged open and Ben shrugged before he stepped back out into the lobby. “Everybody lies.”

She wasn’t convinced, but that was ok. She would be.

 

 

 

  



	2. Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben filters through the noise of the investigation and, after a thoroughly enjoyable interview, has a stunning realization about The General.

He spent the better part of the day reviewing crime scene photos with Rey-- but the newest piece of the puzzle didn’t make the picture any clearer. Ben knew these photos. He’d stared at them all so many times before, he had each of them logged away in his mind waiting to be thumbed through at a moment’s notice. 

Nothing new. 

Nothing of value. 

Snoke’s murder was almost exactly like the others. Almost. 

So what was different? 

Snoke himself. He was a rich man with an immaculate record. He’d still been killed at a place he was comfortable with-- just like all the others. No one had seen anyone enter or leave who wasn’t supposed to be there. Phasma and Finn spent most of the day reviewing security footage and came up empty handed. There was nothing for Poe and BB-8 to  _ do  _ at this point, but the Chief still sent them up to Snoke’s for BB to sniff around-- just in case. 

As they were walking out the door, Rey leaned against Ben’s desk and said, “What’s the eight stand for?”

“Hmm?” 

“In BB-8. Why eight?” 

Ben lifted his head from the photo he was staring at and smirked. “When Poe was a kid, his mom got him a goldfish. He named it BB. Goldfish died, mom got him another. That was BB-2. She got a cat next, and that was BB-3.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“BB-5 is still kicking and lives with his mom-- a labrador.” Ben shrugged. “Four, Six, and Seven were fish again. Guy has terrible luck with fish.” Ben looked back down at his photo and said, “I--” before closing his mouth with a snap. Ben had gotten Poe BB-6 and BB-7 after Poe had told him the story. Two little betta fish in matching bowls. 

He had killed them accidentally the last time he’d been at Poe’s apartment. Thrown a beer bottle and knocked their little bowls over after Poe had tried to kick him out. 

He shifted his weight in his seat and pretended he hadn’t said anything, pretended he didn’t know Rey was staring at him, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t look up, she turned and went back to her desk, and all he heard from her was her computer mouse clicking. Then she gasped. 

“Ben, check this out.” Ben lifted his head and she stared back at him, a cold grin on her face. “I knew there was something off about that guy. Look.” 

Ben stood to lean over her shoulder and peer at the computer screen. 

Armitage Hux had been tried and acquitted for murder. 

“Hey, Phas.” 

“What?” came Phasma’s exhausted reply. She and Finn were so deeply entrenched in security footage, it made Ben’s eyes hurt just looking at them. 

“You said you know that Hux guy, right?” Phasma rolled her eyes and shrugged. “How well do you know him?” 

“Pretty damn well. He’s probably my oldest friend.” 

“You know anything about the murder charge he beat?” Ben half snapped, putting his hips against Rey’s desk and crossing his arms so Phasma could see how annoyed he was. Would have been nice if she’d mentioned that little detail hours ago when they’d met the guy.

“He was found ‘Not Guilty.’” Phasma said pointedly. “And for what it’s worth, the jury made the right call.” Her eyes suddenly glazed past Ben and then hardened. “But why don’t you just ask him about it yourself?” 

Ben turned his head and felt fizzy heat settle in stomach. The man himself was standing just inside the doorway, watching Ben with his hands in his pockets and a completely unreadable expression on his face. Somehow the lines of his arms tapering into his slacks made him look even taller and Ben pushed off from the desk; it seemed wrong to be leaning on something when this man was staring at him like that. 

“Mr. Hux.” 

“Detective Solo.” 

“Er, thank you. Thank you for coming.” Ben paused to keep himself from stuttering more than he already was. “They just sent you up here?” Hux nodded and Ben came out from behind the desk. “I’m sorry. Someone should have shown you to a room. You can follow me.” 

As he passed her, he realized Phasma was grinning at him, wide and vicious and knowing and Ben hated her for it. He scowled at her as he passed, but it only made her grin wider. 

“Ben, should I--” Rey said softly, but Ben shook his head. 

“This way, Mr. Hux.” 

As they left the room, Ben heard Phasma mutter to Rey, “Come on.” Good. Rey could watch.

Ben actually put Hux in an interrogation room. Normally, if he was just going to take a statement, he would have done it at his desk. But with the background check complete, and Rey’s admittedly reasonable suspicions, this way would be better. 

Hux didn’t take his hands out of his pockets as he peered around the room. His eyes lingered overlong on the mirror and then Ben saw them lift to his own face in the reflection. That same chill chased by heat darted through his chest and what the fuck was that exactly? “An interrogation room, Detective Solo?” Hux said lightly. “Do you suspect me of something?” 

Ben smiled, quick and easy in the mirror and said, “Nah, it’s just quieter in here. We can hear ourselves think. Take a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee, soda, water?” 

“I’m quite alright.” 

“Sure? Coffee sucks ass but we got cherry coke!” 

Hux’s lips quirked momentarily and Ben understood that that was the closest he would get to a true smile with this man. “No. Thank you.” 

Ben shrugged. “Suit yourself. Let me know if you change your mind.” 

Hux arranged himself on the metal chair facing the mirror and folded his hands in front of him. He looked like he belonged there. Most people perched carefully on the edge of the seat when Ben brought them in here; the cold white room made them nervous. But not Hux. Hux looked completely unflappable and as Ben stared at him, an image flashed through his head, a picture of what this man might have looked like drenched in camo and hidden with a sniper rifle in his hands, a shadow waiting to devour whatever life wandered into his sights. He realized then it was ruthlessness he was feeling, rolling off the man in waves. It suited him.

Ben spun his own chair around and straddled it, put his elbow on the back of it and peered at Hux. “So, you were charged with murder?” 

Hux laughed and it was a tight, controlled sound. “You don’t waste any time, do you, Detective?” 

Ben shrugged. “I gotta ask. Phasma says you’re good people. I’d trust her with my life. But if I don’t cover all my bases, top brass comes breathing down my neck and I’m sure you know what a pain in the dick that is to deal with.” Ben settled further into his chair. He loved interrogations. They were his forte, really. Alone in the room with a puzzle to be mulled over. And this man was a very interesting puzzle. Ben was having trouble getting a clear read on him. His face constantly said one thing, but his eyes always seemed to say another. “So tell me about the murder charge.” 

Hux lifted a brow. Ben tried not to grin. 

This would be fun. 

“I really shouldn’t speak about that without my lawyer present, Detective. I’m sure you understand.” 

Ben shrugged. “If you’d be more comfortable with legal counsel, by all means. But we’re just talking here, Mr. Hux. I’m curious is all. I can go read the file, but I’d really rather hear it from you.” He put his chin in his hand. “Stories are always more interesting heard rather than read.” 

“Do you think so?” 

“If the one doing the telling is particularly interesting.” 

“You find me interesting?” 

“I dunno. You haven’t told me your story yet.” 

Hux leaned back in his seat and huffed a breath of amusement. His eyes were sharp and when Ben smiled at him, the expression, momentarily, grew sharper. And then it was gone to be replaced with something far less…. Ben wasn’t sure why the word sinister popped into his head. There was nothing sinister about the man. Mysterious, perhaps. Controlled and concealing maybe. He’d been focused too much on Rey today-- he was channeling her suspicions. 

“It was just after I was discharged from the army,” Hux said finally, staring Ben straight in the eye as he spoke. “I met a gentlemen at a bar and we left together.” Ben sat up a little straighter without meaning to. 

“You… left together.” 

Hux’s brows lifted. “Yes, Detective Solo.” He leaned forward in his chair and said very deliberately, “We left together.” 

Ben nodded, hummed in understanding and motioned for Hux to go on. 

“Unfortunately, the gentlemen in question wasn’t interested in a, uh, romantic liaison, shall we say.” Hux paused. “He pulled a gun on me.” Ben lifted his brows. “He was a large man, almost as broad through the shoulders as you are, actually, and I think he thought since I am a… lighter build that I would be an easy target for a robbery. At least I hope that’s all he intended.” 

Ben nodded, a sympathetic smile on his lips. And also a slightly satisfied one. Hux was looking at his ‘broad shoulders.’ “But you're an ex-army ranger.” 

Hux nodded. “I disarmed him and when he tried to overpower me, I shot him. It was intended to be non-lethal, but I regrettably clipped the femoral artery and he died rather quickly.” 

“You shot him in the leg?” 

“As I said, non-lethal. At least that was my intention. I called the police myself.” 

“That sounds like a clear case of self defense,” Ben protested, spreading his hands. 

Hux nodded. “The prosecution believed, given my background, that I should have been capable of… more restraint.” Hux’s voice grew cold as he uttered the last two words and Ben shifted in his seat. 

“Those lawyers never understand what it’s like in the line of fire,” Ben told him. “That nothing’s the same when someone’s pointing a gun at you.” 

Hux nodded. “They were also… unamused by my reaction to the whole thing.”

“And that was?” 

“Mostly indifferent,” Hux looked down at his nails for a moment and Ben felt a strange lump in his throat. Indifference? “But I had just been discharged. I was still quite used to killing.” 

“You… Killed a lot of people in the army?” Ben couldn’t help but ask even though he knew the answer. 

Hux smiled, showed Ben his teeth, and said, “That’s classified, Detective Solo. I’m afraid I can’t comment on exactly what I did for the rangers.” 

“I understand,” Ben replied. “Can you tell me instead about Snoke?” 

“Beyond what we discussed this morning, I don’t really have much more to say. I found him like that at seven forty five this morning. I didn’t enter the room. I called your people and waited in my office until they arrived.” 

“And you can’t think of anyone who might have wanted to cause Mr. Snoke harm? Anyone in particular?”

“I can supply you with a list, if you’d like. But it’ll include everyone from a ninety seven year old grandmother whose apartment he purchased for a quarter of it’s worth to Leia Organa.” 

Ben jerked in his seat. “Leia Organa?” 

Hux nodded, apparently without noticing Ben’s tell. “Yes, the senator has had some qualms with First Order Acquisitions for years. I’m not sure of the specifics, as Snoke’s side of things was the purchase of properties and I personally deal with the design and construction of new buildings on those properties, but I believe she took issue with his more ruthless buying practices. A lot of people have lost their homes to Mr. Snoke.” 

“To First Order,” Ben interrupted.

Hux shrugged. “As I said. I don’t handle that side of things.” 

“It doesn’t bother you? That Mr. Snoke operates the business you both share in this way?” 

“I like making money and designing buildings. I don’t really care how Snoke acquires our properties, as long he does so legally. As far as I know he always operated within the scope of the law. That’s where Organa comes in. She’s been trying to push through legislation to close some of the gaps that allowed Snoke to purchase property the way he did.” 

Ben smirked. He couldn’t help it. “I’ll ask her about those.” 

“You know the senator?” Hux asked him casually. 

Ben shrugged. “You could say that. She sorta birthed me.” 

Hux drew back in his chair and lifted his chin. “You’re Leia Organa’s son?” 

Ben nodded. “Yep. Most people don’t realize, since we don’t share a last name.” Ben shrugged. “I try to stay out of the press for anything not cop related, you know? Politics was never my thing.” 

“No, you don’t have the face for it.” 

Ben tilted his head, because that was an exceedingly odd thing to say. “I’m sorry?” 

“Your face. It’s too open. All your emotion right there for anyone to see.” Hux leaned forward and said almost darkly, “I bet you’re terrible at poker.” 

Ben snorted because he was a fucking phenomenal poker player. “Do you? Are you actually willing to bet on that?” 

“Yes. I think I could pinpoint every bluff.” 

“I’m a detective, Mr. Hux. Reading people is sort of my job.” 

“Being able to read a bluff and being capable of bluffing aren’t the same skill, Detective. You carry all your emotion in your eyes. You’re an open book.” 

“And how do you know you weren’t seeing what I wanted you to see?” 

“What did you want me to see?” 

Ben realized he was leaning forward in his chair, tilting the front legs up a little so the back almost touched the table. He was speaking strictly lower than was necessary, all the bass in his voice vibrating in his chest. 

Hux tilted his head. 

Bit his lip. 

The front legs of the chair smacked back against the ground and Ben leaned away, unable to keep the sheer, unbridled amusement from his face. 

He was good at reading people. He couldn’t get a firm grip on Hux at all. Every time he thought he had something, Hux twisted around, slipped out of his grasp and made him question his previous assessments. 

And all the while Hux had been reading him right back. What did he see exactly? Was he amused? Intrigued? 

Infatuated?  

Hux’s smirk widened, then grew sharp and knowing. Ben’s gut twisted and pulled and he felt heat in his cheeks all of a sudden, heat that made his heart race. Hux was… very attractive when he smiled like that. There was a certain danger in the expression, a certain capability that reminded Ben that this man was a killer. A fucking  _ ruthless  _ killer if Ben was any judge. Ben had killed people in the line of duty before. Perhaps more than most officers in his line of work-- but he’d never been able to speak of one of them with the efficiency and matter-of-fact tone that Hux had used. 

“Where were you at ten PM last night, Mr. Hux?” 

Hux lifted a brow. “At my apartment.” 

“Can anyone corroborate that?” 

“Perhaps the security footage in my building. But. I live alone.”

“You don’t have any friends… or a partner who can confirm your whereabouts?” 

“No, Detective Solo. I’m afraid not. But I will have my building provide you with the security footage.” 

“My people will see to that,” Ben said waving a hand. 

“Are you sure I don’t need my lawyer, Detective Solo?” 

“Are you uncomfortable?” 

“No.” 

“Good. Can you tell me if the name Derek Javez means anything to you?” 

Hux thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, that doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“Erica Preston?” Hux declined again and Ben meticulously worked his way through the names of every single victim. 

By the time he completed his list, he was convinced. Hux hadn’t shown a flicker of recognition for any one of them. No doubt the security footage in his building would confirm his alibi and then Rey would have nothing to bitch about. 

“I think we’re done here, Mr. Hux,” Ben said finally, allowing a genuine smile to settle on his face. And perhaps it was tinged with a little sadness. Hux was  _ fun.  _ Hux was a challenge. He made Ben think. Ben was disappointed the interview had to end.

Hux smiled and said, “Should I expect to hear from you in the future, Detective Solo?” 

Ben shook his head as he stood up and flipped his chair back around. “You and I both know you’re not the General, Mr. Hux.” Ben paused to smirk at him. “At this point, we have to look at anybody close to any one of the victims. Statistically, when someone is murdered, they know their attacker. But the General sort of eschews statistical analysis. Between you and me, we’ve got a legitimate psychopath on our hands.” 

Hux frowned. “That is very concerning.” 

Ben nodded. Hux stood and they both moved toward the door. “We’ll catch him,” Ben said firmly. 

“I believe you will, Detective Solo. You know, I admire your line of work. There is no greater moral pursuit than that of justice.” 

“Thank you.”

“I mean it. Without officers like yourself, there is very little keeping us all from complete and utter chaos. I considered a career in law enforcement myself, once. But Snoke’s offer was simply too good to refuse.” Hux smiled. “Maybe in the future if I ever grow tired of being really  _ quite _ wealthy I will seek a change in occupation.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Ben muttered, peering at Hux in amusement because he wasn’t sure if his pay grade had just been insulted or if Hux had been bragging about his own take home.   
Hux smirked and then said, “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Meant about what?” 

“When I asked if I should expect to hear from you. Detective.” 

Ben drew up short, his hand on the door knob. “What?” 

“Am I a suspect?” 

“No--” 

“Good. Then when I ask you to accompany me to dinner next Friday evening you should have no professional reason to refuse.” 

Ben’s heart leapt into his throat and hammered twice, so loudly he was sure Hux could hear it. “Uh. I. I really don’t think--” 

“Unless you have a personal objection?” Hux lifted his brows and then leaned back slightly. “Or have I  _ misjudged--”  _ Hux cleared his throat, color rising in his cheeks and Ben couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Maybe Hux was right. Maybe he  _ was  _ an open book. But he couldn’t help it. When Hux got all red like that, his freckles stood out even more. 

“What time?” 

Hux closed his mouth, the slightly stammered apology on his lips disappearing to be replaced by a slow, cat-like smile that made Ben’s heart smack his ribs again. “What time would you prefer?” 

“Eight is the standard, isn’t it?” 

“Eight then.” It was Hux’s turn to hand Ben a card. When Ben glanced down at it, he saw a hand written number at the bottom, and Hux said, “My personal line.” But Ben hadn’t seen him write the number. He’d come with the card like this. Hux leaned forward and said conspiratorially. “We can iron out the details later. I imagine at least Phasma is watching us talk right now and knowing her--” Ben groaned and rolled his eyes. “Exactly,” Hux finished. 

Ben tugged open the door. 

“Good bye, Detective Solo,” Hux said smoothly as he breezed passed. 

“It’s Ben!” Ben called before he could stop himself. Hux didn’t pause, or turn around, just lifted his hand in acknowledgement and turned the corner to the stairwell. 

Ben stared at the spot where he had disappeared for a few absent seconds, turning Hux’s thick, expensive looking white card over in his hands. 

The prickling on his neck told him he was being watched and when he turned around, he found Phasma, Finn, Rey, and Poe all standing in the doorway of the observation room, staring at him with their arms crossed over their chests and unamused expressions on their faces. 

Except for Poe. Poe had his hands in his pockets and he was staring so hard at his own feet, it made Ben’s heart twist.

Ben cleared his throat, pocketed the card, and raced back to his desk to bury his head in more crime scene photos.

 

~~~  
  
Phasma was the first to break. She grunted about the security footage and shoved herself to her feet. “Can’t stare at this shit anymore. Let’s get a beer, Finn.” 

Finn rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “You go ahead. I’ll finish the last few hours so we don’t have to look at it tomorrow.” 

Phasma shrugged and muttered, “Don’t stay too late. I don’t want you sleeping at your desk too.” She shot Ben a look at that and Ben pretended not to notice. “That’s Solo’s job,” she added just for good measure. Finn nodded without taking his eyes off the silent security tape. 

“See you tomorrow, Phas.” 

Poe was next. BB-8 had come up empty at Snoke’s office, and his home. Ben wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected to find anything only a dog could scent at either scene. BB had sniffed out drugs in four of the other crime scenes, and in one of those four, a towel with some suspicious staining that they’d had to send away for analysis, but neither of those scenarios fit the old man. So Poe had been combing through the photos like Ben and Rey were. They’d worked most of these scenes together anyway, before their ability to spend a day alone together had shattered with the fish bowls and beer bottles. 

Poe stood, stretched and Ben felt his eyes land on the top of Ben’s head. Echoing Phasma, he said, “Don’t stay too late.” Then he added, voice dark, “Ben.” 

Ben lifted his head. “I won’t.” 

Poe glanced at Rey, who had her nose to her desk and then made a face at Ben. Ben understood. 

“I’m finished here,” Finn said suddenly, looking up from his work as well. “I’ll follow you out.” Poe nodded and the two men disappeared together, BB at Poe’s side. 

Ben refused to admit why that irked him so much. 

Rey yawned.

“You don’t have to stay,” he told her, Poe’s face fresh in his mind. She was pushing herself, unwilling to call it a day before Ben. It was admirable, really, if naive. No one worked longer nights than Ben did. 

“I’m fine,” she told him, voice falsely bright. Too bright for someone who’d spent the last God only knew how long staring at crime scene photos. Bloody ones at that.  

“Rey, it’s your first day. Go home. Get some rest.” 

“Are you leaving too?” 

Ben shook his head and flapped a hand, peering back down at the file on his desk. “I’ll be out soon--”

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said ‘no.’ I’m not leaving until you do.” 

Ben lifted his head to find her staring back at him, brow furrowed stubbornly. “You don’t get to make that call,  _ kid,”  _ Ben grunted, sounding alarmingly like his father. “I’m the senior officer here.  _ Go home. _ ”

Rey pursed her lips. “So who tells you to go?” 

“No one,” Ben muttered because it was easier than saying ‘Poe used to.’ 

Rey crossed her arms over her chest. “If you fall asleep at your desk, I’m not taking you to your apartment for a shower again.” 

Ben smirked at her. “I won’t, alright? I’m just waiting for a call, and then I’ll head out.” 

“Fine.”

“You’re pushy for a rookie.” 

Rey shrugged. “We’re a team, right? You’re not exactly the only one you screw over if you miss something cause you’re too tired to stand.” She stood and said cheerfully, “Can’t watch my back if you can’t see straight.” 

Ben grinned at her. “See you in the morning.”

She mock saluted, grabbed her purse, and breezed away. 

Ben was alone. Good. It was better this way. He could think more clearly when there wasn’t so much  _ noise.  _ Even when no one in the room was talking, Ben was still bombarded by their presences. He could hear them breathing, hear them shuffling papers, shifting in their chairs. All he had to do was lift his head and he could practically hear their thoughts broadcast for anyone capable of listening. It made him think almost longingly about the flask in his bottom drawer. It was easier to ignore the dull roar of their sheer proximity when the warmth in his gut made everything in his head go soft around the edges. 

Finn looked at Poe a lot, when he didn’t think Poe was looking. Poe never looked but he knew. Phasma watched everyone like a hawk. She was the first in in the morning and the first out because she was so goddamn efficient; and she made sure everyone else was efficient too. The second Finn’s eyes started to glaze, or Ben started jiggling his leg and contemplating taking a swig from his flask under the desk where no one could see, she’d snap to attention, suggest Ben and Finn trade places for a while, or drag Ben out for a pretzel or send Finn to get everyone sodas, or any other number of sly, seemingly friendly tactics that broke up the mind numbing drag of a case with no fucking breaks in it. 

Ben knew every time Poe looked at him. He could feel the other man’s eyes on his head and he had to struggle not to look up, not to lick his lips, or smile, or wink, or do any of the things he used to do to show Poe when he was thinking about him. 

It was all easier when Poe wasn’t there. It was easier to pretend he didn’t feel like he was walking backwards without Poe there to stick a new photo in front of his face when he’d been staring at the old one for too long. It was easier to pretend they hadn’t spent a little over two years sneaking off to a supply closet together when Ben’s brain got too loud and all he could see was blood when he blinked. It was easier to pretend Poe had been a distraction when Ben and Poe and, frankly, everybody else had known the opposite was true. 

He needed a drink. 

His phone started ringing before he could get his bottom drawer open, and, for some reason, that was almost a relief. 

“Benjamin.” 

“Hey, mom,” Ben muttered, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing his hand over his face. 

“You sound tired.” 

“This case fucking sucks.” 

“Are you still at work?” Her voice went up a little at the end, concerned and annoyed. Probably pissed Luke hadn’t forced Ben to go home. 

“I left a few minutes ago,” he lied. “I’m almost home.” 

“Good. What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning? Of course, you know I always love to hear from you-- you don’t call me enough-- but it’s rare you’re so insistent.” 

“I didn’t expect you’d be busy all day.” 

“The life of a public servant. What’s up?” 

“Listen, Mom. Do you know a man named Snoke?” 

The line went very quiet. Then Leia replied suspiciously, “We’ve crossed paths. Why?”

Ben sighed. “He got him. The. The General. He was found in his office this morning by his business partner.” 

Leia said, “My God,” and then fell silent, so Ben went on. 

“Your name came up when I was interviewing his partner. A--”

“Armitage Hux.” 

“Yeah. You know him?” 

“Only in passing. Why did my name come up?” 

“We’re trying to narrow down a list of people who may have wanted to do Snoke harm.”

Leia snorted in bitter laughter. “And Mr. Hux mentioned me? Benjamin, you can’t be serious.” 

“No, Mom. Of course not. But I was hoping you could tell me more about the guy. I’ve been looking into him all day. No close friends or family. Hux is the only one who could say more than two words about him. He’s the only person on our list of victims who doesn't have a record-- and that’s just between us, by the way,” he added as an afterthought. “I can’t get a clear read on the guy. He didn’t even have any photos in his house. Not one. And the only pictures in his office were hunt trophies. With dead lions and shit.” 

Leia tsked loudly and Ben had to twist the phone from his ear. He knew the ‘dead lions’ bit would get her going. “Ben. If Snoke doesn’t have a criminal record, it’s only because he and his lawyers are too slippery to let anything stick.”

“Mr. Hux said he always operated above the law.”

“Then Mr. Hux is either complicit or naive. I’ve got a stack of files taller than you with everything Snoke has been implicated in. Mostly fraud and intimidation, but there are a few cases-- real conspiracy theory stuff-- that would make your head spin.”

“What kind of cases?” 

“When he was younger, people who got in Mr. Snoke’s way had a habit of disappearing. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I have reason to believe he had my predecessor in his pocket. He’s also funding Johnson’s smear campaign against me. The man’s been trying to undermine me for years now and he’s only doubled his efforts since I introduced the Webbing Bill.”

“What’s Webbing?”

“A lot of complicated law talk-- but simply put, it closes some of the loopholes Snoke has been using to keep his profits so high. When it passes, First Order Acquisitions can expect a big hit.” 

“Hux mentioned something like that.”

“It’s been a fight, to be sure. But I think we finally got him.” There was a pause. “I’m almost sad I won’t get to see the look on his face when the bill goes through. He is-- was, I guess-- a menace, Ben. Between you and me,” she lowered her voice. “We’re all better off without him.” 

“What did you say?” Ben said sharply, another voice sounding in his head, echoing Leia’s words. 

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but--”

“No. Mom. You’re brilliant. Fuck. Thank you. I gotta go.” 

“What? Ben I--” 

He hung up the phone, heart hammering in his chest and started rifling through the files. 

It was on Phasma’s desk. The interview he’d done with the estranged wife of the third victim.  _ We’re all better off without him.  _

Ben wasn’t tired anymore. He had work to do. 

 

~~~   
  


“Jesus Christ, Ben.” 

Ben didn’t look up from his computer, just grunted. 

“Have you been here all night?” Phasma asked. Then she paused. “Of course you have.” 

Before Ben could answer, Poe walked in, hot on her heels, and Phasma went very quiet, watching him. 

“Ben.” Ben didn’t answer. He was distantly aware that Poe had crossed the room, but Ben didn’t fully acknowledge him until he tugged Ben’s computer monitor around so Ben couldn’t see it. “Ben.” 

“What?” Ben snapped, forced to look up. 

“Have you slept?” 

Ben flapped a hand. “I’m fine.” He jerked his chin at his coffee and whip fast, Poe grabbed it from his desk and smelled it. Ben stopped trying to yank the monitor back around and glared at him. 

Poe set the coffee back down and Ben muttered, “Happy?” 

The other man shrugged. “Just checking. It’s not outside the realm of possibility.” 

“I’m  _ working.”  _

“That’s what I’m worried about.” 

“It’s not your job to worry about me anymore,” Ben snapped before he could stop himself. Across the room, Phasma whistled. Poe’s face changed and he muttered, “Yeah. You’re right.” 

He walked away and Ben couldn’t help himself. “Don’t you want to know what I  _ found?”  _

They both paused and stared back at him, unwilling hope flickering on their faces. “You found something?” Phasma half whispered. 

Ben grinned. “He’s not just a serial killer. He’s a goddamn  _ vigilante.”  _

_ “What?”  _ Phasma demanded, but before Ben could go on, Rey and Finn walked in together, laughing and looking far too chummy for two people who had only met twenty four hours ago. Ben tried not to scowl. Finn’s sheer unavoidable sunniness grated on him. He was a goddamn rainbow with a badge and it didn’t seem right that a homicide detective be so damn  _ endearing.  _

“Oh, you’re early!” Rey teased. Then she paused and looked Ben up and down. 

Finn muttered, “Or… not.” 

Rey’s face changed and before she could say anything Ben said again, “He’s a vigilante. He’s not just killing for fun; he’s got a  _ purpose.”  _

They all stopped and stared at him and Ben lifted the huge stack of papers he’d been working on compiling all night. “He’s killing criminals.  _ That’s  _ the pattern. We thought he was just picking randomly, picking people no one would miss, or, or, or people the cops wouldn’t get as invested in. Drug dealers, thieves, sex workers--” 

“Snoke doesn’t have a record,” Rey interrupted. “He’s clean.” 

“Exactly. That’s, that’s how I figured it out. Snoke’s never been officially charged with anything, but he’s been implicated in, fuck, everything from murder to fraud. He’s a  _ bad man.”  _ Ben thrust the pile of articles, facebook posts, and reddit threads containing everything unofficial he could find about Snoke into Phasma’s waiting hands. “So I started looking at our other victims. Victim number one, Derek Javez. Officially charged with distribution of a controlled substance. Spent ten years in prison before an early release. Unofficially? At least three drug related deaths have been linked to him-- toxicology showed the drugs had been cut with some  _ nasty  _ shit, but nobody would admit Javez was the dealer. Victim number two, Erica Preston. Convicted of prostitution some eight years ago, record otherwise clean. But four years ago her five year old daughter died when a TV fell on her. Cops thought it was just another tragic household death, but CPS had been called on Preston a year earlier with reports of abuse, and there were some injuries on Olivia Preston that couldn’t be explained by the falling TV. Preston’s own family thinks she killed the kid and concocted the TV thing to cover it up.” 

“If--” Finn began, but Ben wasn’t through. 

“Victim number three-- suspected of rape. Victim number four-- accusations of child molestation. Five stole her grandmother’s life savings, and granny lost her house, died alone in a hospital after spending a year homeless. Six. Six was harder, but I think I’ve linked him to a hit and run death two states over. And then Snoke.” Ben paused and grinned triumphantly, his heart racing and his hands shaking. Of course, that could have been the caffeine. “No one was sad to see these people go. He’s  _ taking out the trash.” _

Phasma said, “Hot damn.” 

Poe was staring at Ben with a sort of familiar awe, like he wasn’t surprised that Ben had surprised him. 

Finn and Rey were staring back and forth at each other, a strange darkness in their eyes. It made Ben realize he was too excited, leaning on his desk, eyes gleaming and grinning like a maniac. 

“Good work, Benjamin. Now go home.” 

They all turned at the same time. No one had realized Luke was standing in the doorway, his coat flung over his arm. 

“I’m fine,” Ben protested again, but Luke cut him off, soft voice firm and annoyingly serene.

“Give the files to your team. And go home. Get some sleep. You earned it.” 

The other four piled on. “I’ll take Snoke. Finn, you work on five and six, Rey, three and four, and Poe, you’ve got one and two.” Phasma’s voice was loud and commanding. “Let’s find out just how much shit these people were hiding.” Before Ben could protest, all three of them were snatching files from his desk, shuffling all his papers, flipping through all the research he’d spent the night compiling. Phasma looked down at him and muttered, “I’ll keep an eye on your rookie. Go home. Start your weekend early.” 

They practically shoved him out into the hallway. 

He caught a cab home, fuming the entire ride about the ungrateful bastards stealing his thunder. That was  _ his  _ break.  _ His  _ work he’d spent all evening compiling and now they were breaking it up, rushing away with  _ his  _ files to interview  _ his  _ suspects about  _ his case.  _

It was his case. The rest of them were just noise, warm bodies to get in his way. 

By the time he got to his apartment, his hands were shaking again but it wasn’t excitement and it wasn’t the caffeine. 

He uncorked the bottle of scotch on his coffee table and wandered out onto his balcony with an empty glass in one hand and the scotch in the other. It was still early. He peered over the railing at a steady stream of people marching off to their jobs, briefcases swinging at their sides, heels clicking on the pavement. He sat down heavily and poured himself a glass. 

Below him, a young woman was tugging a child along behind her, but the boy was crying and the woman was ignoring him, except to yank his arm too hard every few seconds. Across the street, a middle aged man in a dark coat lounged between two buildings, eyes flicking up and down the street. As Ben watched, another man met him, the two spoke briefly, shook hands, and parted ways. Ben tried to determine what kind of drugs they’d just exchanged but they were too far away for him to really see their faces. He drank from his glass, and heard someone on a cell phone below him, but out of sight, start screaming about needing the deal to go perfectly, that if it fell apart it would be the caller’s fault and the speaker would be happy to fire them. 

He could hear all of them, see them, feel them crawling under his skin and settling there, digging their boney heels and sharp nails into muscle and sinew, grabbing hold and refusing to let go. So much  _ noise.  _ He could go inside, try to sleep, and it wouldn’t matter. He knew how to drown them out and sitting at home alone in the middle of the day was not the way to do it. 

He couldn’t call Poe anymore. It was easier to ignore the buzzing in his head and under his skin when Poe was talking to him, looking at him, fuck, moaning for him or screaming at him or even crying. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember when those three things had become linked, when he’d stopped caring  _ what  _ the reaction was, so long as there was a reaction. When he’d stopped caring if Poe was laughing or screaming. If he was touching Poe to make Poe feel good, or to make himself stop feeling bad. 

The city was screaming at him and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. 

He forgot his glass. He put the bottle to his lips instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So. I was feeling a little self conscious about Chapters 1 and 2 (Thanks Ajax my angel) but I'm feeling REALLY good about how this story is shaping up from here on out, so, I apologize (I mean, but not really?) if this gets updated way too fast from now on! :D?
> 
> Your kudos and comments validate me as a person. Seriously. I had no idea how much I needed them. 
> 
> <3<3<3


	3. Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben's personal life catches up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end of chapter for potential trigger warning

Poe was laughing. It was nice, hearing him laugh like that. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded so happy. Ben put his head against the doorframe and listened for a minute, forgot he’d knocked already until Poe opened the door and his face went from bright and sunny to shuttered darkness in an instant. That was interesting. Ben almost peered around to find out what had bothered him so much but then he realized he was the only thing in Poe’s line of sight. 

Oh. 

“Ben.” He managed to make Ben’s name sound like a disease, like he was giving someone the worst possible news or talking about something incredibly unfortunate. Ben scowled. 

“Hey. H-hey.” 

“You. What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Ben shoved into the apartment and kicked the door closed behind him. Poe… sort of… let him. He didn’t actually stop him, but he crowded Ben back against the door, like he wasn’t willing to let him take more than a few steps inside. 

Ben didn’t mind. Poe was standing close enough that Ben could smell his shampoo and the cologne he always wore when they were going out to dinner together. He had no idea what it was, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that smell until that moment. He grinned with half his face and leaned forward, not bothering to hide the way he inhaled. “You smell good.” 

Poe’s eyes were wide and at that, they narrowed into sharp understanding. He scrubbed his hand over one cheek and shook his head. “Ben. What are you  _ doing  _ here?” 

“I wanted to see you.” 

“You saw me this morning.” 

“No,” Ben said sharply. He lifted his hands and wrapped them around Poe’s waist, tugged him close. He was such a  _ solid  _ man, Ben always forgot how little he was until he saw his own hands against Poe’s stomach. He was only tangentially aware of the way Poe’s hands fisted around Ben’s wrists, of the way he leaned back and turned his head away when Ben leaned in and whispered, “I wanted to  _ see you.”  _  He didn’t realize Poe was trying to push him away until he leaned in to kiss him, and Poe’s hand came up, sharp and fast, to grip him by the chin and shove him back. 

“Goddamn it, Ben,” he hissed, voice oddly low, “I thought we were  _ passed this.”  _

Ben grinned at him, and shifted his weight, pulled Poe around so Poe was pressed to the door and Ben was holding him there like he’d always liked before. When they’d. Before. He’d liked this. But Ben couldn’t figure out why he kept turning his face away like that. 

“So we’re not together anymore,” he muttered. “It doesn’t mean we can’t be  _ together.  _ I--”

Poe put both his hands on Ben’s chest and pushed. 

Ben only moved because he heard a sound behind him. 

And then a voice. 

“Hey, who was at the do--” 

Ben whirled and found Finn staring at him. His warm brown eyes were huge, like a doe in a spotlight. The blue button up shirt he was wearing was only half buttoned.

The lighting was warm; Poe had the dimmers turned half way down and some soft tinkly jazz music was playing. 

Poe used to play him jazz like that.  

Poe said very softly. “Ben.” 

“ _ What the fuck is he doing here?”  _ Ben fisted his hand in the cloth at Poe’s shoulder and shoved him back into the door so hard the whole wall shook. Finn took a step forward then, hands balling into fists and his pretty dark eyes narrowing. 

“Let--” 

Poe stuck his hand up. “Don’t.” 

Finn went very still, but it was the kind of stillness of a man preparing himself for a fight. Ben grinned at him with all his teeth and thought,  _ I fucking dare you.  _

“Let go of me.” He looked back down and found he was still gripping Poe’s shirt. “Ben. Let go of me.” Poe’s voice was very low, and very controlled. “Benny.” 

Ben swallowed hard and let go. The second Ben’s hand came away, Poe shoved away from the door and went to Finn. Ben tried not to think he was  _ moving away  _ from Ben. 

“Are you--”

“I’m fine. Go wait for me in the living room?” 

“You don’t have to--”

“Finn. It’s fine. Alright? I can handle him.”

“He’s  _ drunk--” _

_ “I am not.”  _

Poe said, “Go,” and Ben glared back at Finn when the other man stared at him hard for a few seconds before finally turning and disappearing down the hallway. 

When Poe turned back to look at him, Ben felt something knot in his stomach. “You need to leave right now. I’ll call you a cab.” 

“What’s he doing here?” 

“It’s none of your goddamn  _ business, Ben.”  _

_ “Yes, it is, if he’s--”  _

“Get out of my apartment.”

“I just came to  _ talk--” _

“Then pick up your phone and call. You can’t just show up and expect me to drop everything to… to… Are you  _ sunburned?”  _

Ben pouted at the floor. “I fell asleep on the balcony.” 

Poe sighed and rubbed one of his eyes with the tips of his fingers. Ben felt the knot in his stomach tighten. 

“Ben.” 

“Him, Poe?  _ Finn?”  _

“Yes,  _ Finn,”  _ Poe hissed at him. “I like him. He’s… nice. Kind.” 

Ben snorted and rolled his eyes so hard it actually made him dizzy.  “ _ Kind?  _ Really Poe?” Ben grabbed him again, pulled him close and said darkly, “I know you. I know what you like and  _ kind isn’t--”  _ Poe was staring at his chest. Not pushing away from him, not moving closer. Just staring and standing perfectly still like Ben wasn’t even there. Like he wasn’t talking to him. Like Ben didn’t have  _ any effect on him at all _ and Ben was suddenly horrified to find his eyes stinging. The knot in his stomach shifted up into his throat and it was so big it hurt. 

He didn’t move and Poe didn’t speak. 

It was probably only a few seconds but it felt like a long time. 

Ben realized Poe had fixed the wall he’d punched the last time he was here. You couldn’t even tell there had ever been a hole there now. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, he curled forward, wrapped his arms around Poe’s solid shoulders and buried his nose against the space behind his ear, where all his soft curls could brush against Ben’s cheek. He could smell his shampoo and his cologne. Feel all the hard weight of him, feel how little it all was in Ben’s arms, how small. “I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until he heard the door slam closed behind him. He left his hand on the door frame for a long time, tried to get his heart to stop slamming against his ribs and his eyes to stop blurring. Poe had been laughing when he’d answered the door. 

Ben had forgotten what he looked like when he was happy. 

He wished he’d never seen. Never remembered.   

 

~~~

 

Poe woke him up too early the next morning. When Ben tugged the door open, he couldn’t believe it was Poe standing there. Not after the way he’d-- 

Poe stared at him silently for a long time, and Ben could see the anger arching in his eyes. Ben’s chest clenched.

“So who talks first?” Poe asked him. “You talk first, I talk…” He trailed off because Ben had looked at the ground, the attempt at levity sending a bolt of painful nostalgia shooting through his gut. Poe had said those exact words the first time they'd spoken after Ben had kissed him. After Ben had  _ run  _ away with heat flaming in his cheeks and Poe had caught him by the wrist and Ben had known he was about to apologize, about to tell Ben they couldn't. But then he'd grinned. Spoken. Broken all the tension with his smile. 

Poe breezed past him without looking at him, and Ben was left holding the door and staring at Poe’s back as the other man picked up the empty scotch bottle and glared at it. 

“What are you…” Ben muttered, but then he couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. He swung the door shut and Poe turned to look at him. His dark curls were in his eyes and Ben remembered with a painful jolt the way they’d felt against his cheek. It was funny how much he missed that. He hadn’t appreciated it enough when he’d had it. 

“We shouldn’t have sent you home yesterday,” Poe said softly. 

“What? What do you mean you--”

“I should have known better.” 

Ben’s face twisted. “Don’t act like that. I--”

“Come sit.” 

“What?” 

“Come. Sit.” Poe crossed his arms and sank onto Ben’s couch and Ben stared at him for a long time before he moved to the armchair. 

“I’m. Really sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just wanted.”

Poe lifted his chin. 

Ben swallowed hard and said, “I didn’t. I don’t quite. Remember.” The words felt like broken glass in his throat and he wished he didn’t have to speak them. But he had to know.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t. Hurt. You.”

“No.” 

Ben swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. “I. Hurt my hand and I don’t. Really. Know. How.” 

Poe’s eyes tracked from Ben’s face down to his bruised and scraped fist and he said, “You must have done that after you left.” 

Ben nodded and some of the knots in his stomach untied themselves. He’d only hit Poe once before. It had been bad. He’d been bad. They’d argued about Ben drinking, about Ben working too late, about Ben forgetting to eat and replacing his meals with coffee, and Ben had been on his eighth beer when he’d hurled the bottle at the wall and broken the fishbowls. 

And that had been it for Poe. Ben had seen it in his face, had seen his eyes shutter, had seen his shoulders get tight and hard and he’d told Ben to get the fuck out of his apartment, he wouldn’t watch Ben fall apart and Ben had said he wasn’t going anywhere, and then they’d been screaming and Ben put his fist through the wall and Poe had grabbed him and tried to shove him outside and he hadn’t really meant to hit him, hadn’t thought he’d actually connect but he had. He’d hit him so hard he thought he’d broken his hand when he sobered up and Poe’d had a black eye for nearly two weeks.

Poe put him on his back for his transgression, so quickly the change in orientation had made Ben roll onto his side and puke his beer onto the carpet and that was it. 

The damage was done. 

Ben’s knuckles cracked as he stared at the bruise on his fist, the memory too close in his head, too real. 

Rey was right. 

It had been his fault. 

It was strange, not trusting himself. Six months ago he would have thought it completely impossible that he was capable of physically hurting someone he cared about. Six months ago if anyone had asked Poe if Ben had ever hit him, Poe would have laughed in their faces; the very idea was that outrageous. 

Ben didn’t know what had happened. Didn’t know when or how that had changed. 

The worst part hadn’t even been how surprised Poe was. It had been how unsurprised everyone else was. How they’d looked at Ben like he was scum and they’d  _ known all along.  _ Even Luke. 

Even Leia.

“Do you believe me now?” Poe said softly. 

Ben stared at his knuckles and, very hesitantly, he nodded. 

“Why the fuck, Ben? We sent you home to get some rest, not crawl into a fucking scotch bottle.” 

“It was too  _ noisy.”  _

“It’s the city, Benny. It’s loud. Most people  _ like that.”  _

“No. You don’t get it, it’s like, I can  _ hear all of them.  _ And there’s too fucking many.” 

Poe shook his head, his dark curls shimmering against his olive forehead. “I thought it was better when you were alone.” 

“It used to be.” 

“Maybe you should go live with your mom like we talked about.”

“I’m not  _ living with my mother,  _ Poe. Come on.” 

“It’s quieter in the burbs and the commute’s not that bad,” Poe protested. “Just for a few weeks.” 

“No.” 

“Then maybe you need to talk to somebody.” Poe’s voice was firm and determined. “You’re not handling anything right now. You’re just.” Poe shrugged and twisted his hands. Ben shifted in his seat. Poe sighed. “Go take a shower. I’ll… clean up.” 

Ben’s stomach jumped. Clean up. He opened his mouth to tell Poe not to touch the bottle of brandy, that it was fucking expensive and he’d been saving it for a special occasion, but then he stopped himself. Instead, he said, “You can keep the brandy. It’s. Expensive. I was saving it.” 

The steam cleared his head a little, although it was still throbbing when he turned the water off. He scrubbed the taste of old scotch out of his mouth, tugged a comb through his sopping hair and emerged from the bathroom in a pair of jeans and nothing else just in time to see Poe dumping a bottle of vodka down the kitchen sink. 

He winced because he’d had that bottle hidden under his bed and then realized it was probably a good thing Poe was here because if he lived alone and was hiding vodka under his bed maybe Poe and Luke and Leia hadn’t been exaggerating at all. 

Poe grinned at him and started dropping all the empty bottles into the trash can. “Feel better?” His voice was too cheerful, but it made Ben smile. The man was too damn happy about getting to clean out Ben’s liquor cabinet. 

“Nah. My head is throbbing.” 

“Good.” 

“Dick.” 

“You deserve it. You ruined my date.” 

“Good.” 

“I haven’t gotten laid in six months and it’s your fault, ass.”

“Good,” Ben said again a little more brightly than he’d meant too. “We can be celibate together.” He dropped onto his couch and kicked his feet onto the coffee table. Poe snorted and came and sat next to him as he flipped the TV on. “So you and Finn haven’t…” 

“No. We’ve gone out a few times. Coffee and shit. Last night was our first real… date. I guess.” 

“Sorry I ruined it.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“Nope.” 

“He’s a good guy, Ben.” 

“I’m a good guy.” 

“Eh,” Poe muttered. 

Ben elbowed him. 

It was good. Really good. It hit Ben hard and fast, how fucking  _ normal  _ this felt and how strange it had been not having it. He shifted his weight without really thinking about it, leaned in like he’d done so many times before and set his Netflix to some B horror movie just like he always did when Poe was sitting on his couch like that, all casual and comfortable with nowhere to be. 

“How was. Yesterday,” Ben said finally because there was about five inches of space between his shoulder and Poe’s and all he wanted to do was close the gap. 

“More of the same. You definitely nailed it with the vigilante angle. Once we started digging every one of them had more shit to uncover. We focused on the vics instead of the General. Phas said she’d get a folder together for you so it’s all organized when you go back in Monday.” 

Ben nodded. “Good.”

“You’re gonna find him.”

“I know.” 

“After you left, Rey really stepped up. She’s good, Ben. Like, really good. Better than me.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I’m serious. Give her a chance.”

Ben grumbled and shifted and his shoulder finally connected with Poe’s, all solid and warm and fuck he smelled good, how did he always smell so goddamn good? Poe went very still when Ben shifted in and Ben could feel him thinking, feel him weighing his logic against his emotions and Ben felt him, very deliberately, not move away. 

They watched the movie. 

Poe ordered chinese food because it always helped Ben when he was hung over. He was halfway through his lo mein when he said, “It really fucking sucked seeing Finn at your apartment.” 

“You think I liked watching you throw yourself at that Hux douche bag in the interrogation room?” 

“I  _ did not--” _

“Yeah. You did.” 

Ben glared at him. He hadn’t thought about Hux since the man had left Ben his card. He thought about him now and his stomach jumped a little, which was strange because he didn’t want to think about anyone else but Poe. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Ben shook his head. “Just. Thinking.” 

“Bout what?” 

Ben shrugged. “Thanks for. Being here. Today.” 

Poe stared at him. “It sucks for me too, you know.” 

“Then why the fuck, Poe?” Ben snapped. “If you don’t wanna and I don’t wanna than why the fuck?” 

“You  _ hit me,  _ Benny.” Poe’s lips twisted. “There’s no going back from that. There are just certain things you can’t. Forget.” Ben stared back at him in the painful silence that followed. “We’re not good for each other--”

“You are too good for me--”

“You’re gonna make me say it?  _ You’re  _ not good for  _ me _ . Alright?” 

Ben put his fork down and it was loud falling against the porcelain plate he’d scooped his lo mein onto. “Then why are you here?”

“Cause I care about you,” Poe said with a shrug. “You were my partner for  _ five years  _ before you were my boyfriend and I fucking hate seeing you like this.” He shrugged. “You only get so many chances. You ran out of ‘boyfriend’ shots but I’ve still got a few left for a friend.”

Ben stuffed a roll of lo mein into his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything else. And so Poe couldn’t see how those words hit him, how bittersweet they were. 

He swallowed too much at once and almost coughed. “You really are too good for me, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Too good for Finn too.” 

Poe laughed. “What the fuck, Ben. Everyone loves Finn. He’s cute, he’s sweet, what’s your issue with him?” 

“You.” 

Poe looked down into his fried rice. “Oh.” 

Ben put on another bad horror movie. Then another. Half way through the third one after lunch, when Poe was lounging on the couch with his head on Ben’s shoulder, and the food and the excedrin had taken care of most of his hangover, Ben muttered, “So. Six months.” 

Poe kept staring at the TV when he said, “Yeah. You too?”

“Yeah.” Ben was silent for a long moment, watching a zombie with too many teeth crawling toward a woman caught in a bear trap. “You wanna.” 

“Not a good idea.”

“I know. You wanna?” 

“Yes.” 

For a second Ben was sure he’d misheard him, even though the word sent a warm tingle down his spine. But then Poe had leaned up on the couch and buried his fingers in Ben’s hair and crushed their lips together, pulled Ben over on top of him, and Ben was thinking of how badly he’d wanted this and for how long, how many nights he’d stayed up thinking that he just needed--

“One last time. Just this once,” Poe breathed against his lips and Ben nodded. “This doesn’t change anything.” 

“No. No, I know.” 

“You’re just. You’re just.” 

“I know.” 

Ben held him too tightly. He kissed him too hard. He tried to remember every sound, every tensed muscle, every shiver and shudder, and found he was clearheaded enough for once to do just that. He tucked it all away, unwilling to let even the tiniest detail slip, because he knew beyond simply hearing the words that this was all he would ever have. 

This was goodbye. 

 

~~~

 

Poe left at eight thirty, sweet and smiling with his big brown eyes so wistful it made Ben’s chest hurt. 

He closed the door and thought of his empty liquor cabinet for the first time since that morning. 

Then he thought of Poe, meticulously dumping each bottle out and the way he’d stared at Ben so damn  _ hopeful  _ and maybe even a little proud. 

So he wouldn't drink for a while. And he wouldn’t let himself think that maybe if he stayed dry, and maybe if things didn’t work out with Poe and Finn that maybe Poe would want--

No. He wouldn’t let himself think that.

Instead, he picked up his cell phone and fished a thick business card out of his dirty slacks. 

Instead, he made a call. 

 

~~~

 

It was a longer night than he expected. He was shivering next to his toilet after the fourth round of vomiting when there was yet another knock on his goddamn door. It wasn’t Poe. He knew that before he even stood up. Poe knocked the same way every time; two quick taps with the knuckles of his first two fingers and then once with the side of his pinky. He stood on shaky knees, rinsed his mouth out and managed to totter to the door with the comforter from his bed wrapped around his shoulders because it was  _ fucking cold _ in his apartment even though he’d turned the AC off like two hours ago. 

He tugged the door open, squinted out, and muttered, “What the fuck.” 

Finn crossed his arms over his chest, but then stood a bit straighter; steeling himself for the conversation, gathering his courage. At least Ben intimidated him a little. “We need to talk.” 

“I really don’t think we do. Bye--” Ben started to push the door closed, but Finn stuck his foot in front of it, then shoved it back open and slipped inside. Ben didn’t have the strength to stop him. “Jesus Christ. What do you want?” 

“We need to talk!” Finn said again, voice almost as high as his chin. He was doing a very good job of looking down his nose at Ben while simultaneously looking up at him.

Ben sobbed dramatically into his hand and whined, “Go away!” making the last syllable about four times longer than it needed to be. The last thing Ben needed right now was a jealous would-be lover banging down his door. Ben was jealous enough for Poe all on his own-- the poor guy didn’t need Finn trying to stake his claim too. Why the fuck had Poe even  _ told  _ him--

“I like Poe.” Finn said almost shrilly. “I like him a lot. And. We’re going to. Be together. And you’re just going to have to learn to live with it because he’s a  _ good man  _ and he deserves to be happy and. I’m going to try to make him happy.”

Ben was too hungover for this. Hungover? That wasn’t the right word. 

“And you can’t. Ben. You can’t  _ show up  _ at his apartment and you can’t  _ choke me out at a fucking crime scene--” _

Ben snickered, but still said, “I am sorry about that. That was kinda fucked up.” 

“Kinda?!” 

Ben shrugged. Finn sighed. “Are you gonna say anything or are you just gonna stand there--” Before Finn could finish speaking, Ben whirled on his heel and sprinted back into the bathroom to puke again. 

“Go away!” he yelled between dry heaves. “Leave me the fuck alone.” 

Finn appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, an empty vodka bottle from the trash can in his hand. “Are you sober?” 

Ben put his head in his hands, shrugged further into the comforter and moaned, “Why are you still here?” 

Finn whirled on his heel, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone as he went. Ben thought he was  _ fucking finally  _ going to leave, but then he heard Finn bustling around his kitchen doing God only knew what and a few minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened again and Finn crouched in front of him holding a glass of water. Ben glared at him. But he took the water. He managed to get a few sips down before he started puking again. 

When he leaned over the toilet, Finn tugged the blanket back off his shoulders, and then fisted his hand in Ben’s long hair and Ben tried to shove him away but he was being so goddamn  _ gentle.  _

Ben muttered, “I hate you. Go away.” 

Finn actually laughed. “Why do you  _ hate  _ me?” 

“Cause I’m a jealous asshole.”

“I mean, at least you know that.” 

Ben swallowed a few more sips of water and Finn started trying to wrestle the blanket from him. “Stop that. I’m  _ cold--”  _

“You have a fever. Take a cool shower. You’ll feel better.”

“I’m getting really fucking tired of people telling me to  _ take showers.”  _

Finn tilted his head. “Who--” Oh. So he  _ didn’t  _ know.

“Nevermind. If I get in the shower will you get out of my apartment.” 

Finn smiled and nodded. 

Ben muttered, “Fine,” and staggered to his feet. 

Finn left the bathroom. 

Finn was right. The shower did clear his head a little, and he felt more human without the thick coating of sweat on his skin. Finn was, however, not gone when Ben stepped out of the shower. In fact, his apartment was more full than it had been before. 

Poe was eating popcorn on his couch. 

“What the hell.” 

Poe silently held up a bottle of yellow gatorade. Finn was sitting next to him with his arm thrown around Poe’s shoulders. Ben took the bottle. 

“You should have texted me.” 

“I’m  _ fine.  _ I have a  _ cold.  _ Or the flu or some shit.” 

Poe snorted. “You’re detoxing.” He finally looked away from the TV and said, “I didn’t realize it was that bad, Ben.” 

Ben glared at him and took a sip of gatorade. “It’s not  _ that bad.  _ And I’m not- _ -”  _

“Nausea, vomiting, sweating, tremors,” Poe muttered. “Your hands were shaking when you left the station the other day, but I thought it was the caffeine.” 

“Well, I’m fine now. You can go.” 

“This is a stupid movie,” Finn said. 

“Fuck you, it’s a classic!” Poe protested. 

Ben’s door opened. “What the  _ fuck.”  _

Leia stepped inside and said, “Language.” 

“You should hear him at the station,” Luke said cheerfully, closing the door behind both of them. 

Ben groaned at the ceiling and retreated to his bedroom. He fell face down on his bed and grunted into his pillow. Leia followed him in and put her hand on the small of his back. 

“Mom. Make them go away. Why won’t you all just go away.” 

“Moms don’t ‘go away,’ Benjamin, you know that. Here.” 

He sat up and saw a pill in her hand. “What’s that?” 

“Valium. Take it. It’ll help.” 

Ben swallowed the pill. “I don’t need you all here.” 

“Tough. You’ve got us. You’ve always got us, Ben. Come on, we’re watching bad horror movies, Poe says. I don’t know why you boys like those. They’re awful.”

Ben shrugged. “It’s. Kinda his thing. I dunno. I like it.” 

“I’m proud of you, Benjamin.” 

“Oh, God, Mom. Don’t.” 

“I birthed you. I get to ‘do.’” 

“You’re all making it out like it’s this big thing, It’s not a big thing. Like. It’s not a big deal. Alright. Just stop.” 

Leia snorted. “Han all over.” 

“Don’t.” 

“You’re puking cause you  _ haven’t  _ had a drink, Ben. It is a big deal.” She brushed a lock of hair over his shoulder. “Stop trying to deny it.”

“I’m not. I’m. Not,” he grumbled. 

Leia quirked her lips at him. “Come on. Come watch bad movies with us.” She pushed off from the bed and wandered back out into the living room, but instead of sitting on the couch, she started cleaning his kitchen. Ben didn’t stop her. She wouldn’t have listened if he’d tried. 

Ben retrieved his comforter and curled up on the couch.

Seeing Finn and Poe together didn’t bother him like he expected it to. It did. It sucked. He’d rather be the one with his arm around Poe’s shoulders. But, he mused, remembering the way Finn had handed him a glass of water, tugged the blanket from his shoulders, fucking  _ held his hair  _ while he puked, there were worse guys. Finn wasn’t a worse guy. 

Finn was a better guy. 

 

~~~

They stayed through the puking. They forced gatorade and scrambled eggs down his throat. They cleaned his apartment for  _ some fucking reason.  _ Luke should have been at the station; Finn too, along with Phasma-- he guessed Finn had taken a personal day too. Poe and Ben still had the same days off, Ben recalled with a twinge. It was bad, with a killer like the General on the streets, that half the department was now sitting in Ben’s apartment watching him puke into a trash can and drink gatorade, but he didn’t have the energy to fight them on it. Really, it wasn’t like they were making any real cognitive leaps without him. It was  _ Ben’s case. _

By the time they left, the tremors had stopped. The valium helped. Calmed him. 

He still smoked a bowl. The weed was stale and burned too quickly. Ben never smoked and drank at the same time; he recalled hazily that it’d been weeks since he’d gotten high. He’d been too busy getting drunk.

He fell asleep with his jeans still on, dead bowl in his hands, and didn’t wake up for a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* 
> 
> This chapter depicts a very drunk Ben putting his hands on Poe (specifically his waist) with out Poe's consent. 
> 
>  
> 
> On a lighter note-- THANK YOU for the support for the last two chapters. It is making me feel SO GOOD and I am so eager to keep sharing this story with you all. Keep talking to me, it's SO GOOD. /needybitch
> 
> If you wanna come hang out with me on tumblr, you can find me here --->https://ellabesmirched.tumblr.com/


	4. Ensnared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben allows Hux to escort him to dinner. 
> 
> A really, quite memorable dinner.

Armitage Hux picked Ben up in a red Lotus Elise. 

Ben’s jaw literally dropped when the slighter man pulled up outside his apartment and rolled down the window to stare at him with slightly raised brows. 

“Holy  _ shit.”  _

Hux smirked at him and Ben felt that shiver go up his spine again. It was strange how much and how little he seemed to be saying at one time with that expression. Like he was sharing some esoteric joke with Ben only Ben didn’t remember what it meant. 

“Get in.” 

“What, you’re not gonna open the door for me? You’re not exactly sweeping me off me feet here,  _ Armitage.”  _

“You’re too large for me to lift. And don’t call me that, no one calls me that.” 

“Isn’t it your name?” 

Hux made a face. “Just Hux, if you please.” 

_ If you please.  _ Ben shook his head with a huff of incredulity and walked over to the passenger side. He slid in and Hux shifted back into gear without looking at him. But that little smirk stayed on his lips and Ben had the strangest and intensest urge to lean over and lick it off. 

“So. Where are we going?” 

“Do you like sushi?” 

“Fuck, yes, I love it.” 

“Good.” 

The car shot away from the curb and someone beeped, but there was never any chance Hux was going to hit them. He drove like a goddamn maniac. 

A very. Skilled Maniac. 

After about five minutes of tearing down short streets, running red lights, and slingshotting around normal, sane people, Ben relaxed his grip on the door. He knew a man who knew how to handle a powerful car when he saw one. Fuck, Hux might even give Poe a run for his money and Poe was the best driver Ben knew. Not that he’d ever told him that. 

“Alright over there?” 

“You drive like a psychopath.” 

Hux gave him a dark look from the corner of his eye, smirk (OK, maybe he was outright grinning now) sharpening by almost imperceptible degrees. Then he said, “Too much for you to handle, Detective? Do you need me to  _ slow down?”  _

Ben felt something warm and amused curl in his stomach. “I can take it.” 

Hux grinned again and the car revved. 

Ben chuckled as Hux blew through a fifth red light and said, “Fuck, you must be a traffic cop’s wet dream.” 

“Some of them. Depends on what they're into, I guess.” 

A surprised jolt of laughter shot from Ben’s mouth, but he’d apparently spoken with some sense of foresight because just as it died on his lips, red and blue lights flashed on behind them. Ben saw Hux’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, then his hand move to the gear shift; he downshifted, the car revved and Ben jumped in his seat. 

“Dude!” 

Hux gave him a baleful look and said, “Oh. Right.” 

“You make it a habit of  _ running  _ from the cops?” 

Hux’s eyes narrowed on the road in front of him and he said with a smirk, “Only when I know I can get away.” 

“Yeah, well. ‘Scuse me for  _ ruining your fun.”  _

“You’re not ruining my fun, Detective.” The car rolled to a stop and Hux turned to look at him. “I’m just getting started.” 

Ben was caught for a moment, stuck fast in crystalline eyes and swimming in the honeyed tenor of his voice. Ben recognized a promise when he heard one. 

“You know,” he said a little dazedly, “You don’t have to keep calling me ‘detective.’ Unless,” he added flippantly to hide the way every thought in his head was sticking to the darkness in Hux’s bright, clear gaze, “You know, you’re into that sort of thing.” 

“Maybe I am.” 

Fuck. 

The guy had no chill. Ben half coughed, half laughed because there was something deliciously chilling in the way Hux was staring at him. Ben had looked at suspects like that, at murderers he knew he was inches from nailing to the wall. 

The uniform knocked on the window and Hux rolled it down without turning away from Ben. 

“You outta your goddamn mind, buddy?” the cop snapped. “I clocked you at eighty two in a  _ twenty five.  _ Step out of the car--”

Ben rolled his eyes and leaned over, crowding into Hux’s space perhaps more than he strictly needed too. He smelled like salt water and something metallic. 

“Hi.” 

“Sit back, sir--” 

Ben sighed audibly. “Sorry about my friend. He’s a show off.” 

“Well, he can show off in a  _ cell--” _

Ben shifted in his seat and said, “I’m gonna reach for my badge now.”

“Detective Solo,” the officer said suddenly, sounding like the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Ben replied apologetically. He didn’t think he recognized the officer (although there was something about him…), but he wasn’t surprised the officer recognized him. His face had been all over the news lately and he hadn’t exactly been low key before the General killings. “I’ll make sure he slows down.” He put his hand on Hux’s thigh, more of a test than anything else, as he crowded into Hux’s space. Hux only smirked arrogantly at the officer, but otherwise didn’t react. Didn’t shift, didn’t try to knock Ben away. “You’ll slow down, won’t you, Hux?” 

“If I must.” 

“Yeah, you must!” The officer snarled. “Look, I can let you both go, but I’m still writing you a ticket. I--” 

Ben smiled ruefully. “If you really think you have to. What’s your name again, Officer--?”

“White.” 

“Officer White. Look, would it help if I drove?” Hux scoffed in his ear, his breath hot against Ben’s skin. Ben tilted his head. 

“That’s depends, Solo. You sober this time?” Oh. Ben realized rather suddenly exactly why Officer White looked so familiar.

He scowled without meaning to, ground his teeth so hard they scraped audibly in the small space he was currently sharing with Hux, and he said, too sweetly, and with a bite of annoyance, “Of course.”

“Cause I’d hate to have to  _ call your uncle again--” _

Ben leaned away from Hux and resisted the unignorable urge to turn his head and see Hux’s reactions to the uniform’s taunts. “No need,” Ben said sharply. “Klein is your superior right? Why don’t we just call her?” The officer’s face got dark. “Or. If you don’t want to  _ waste everyone’s time.”  _ He grinned. “You can get. The  _ fuck _ . Back in your car. And we can be on our way.  _ Officer White.”  _

“I. Suppose,” the officer said grudgingly, eyes hot and angry and defeated. “If you drove. I’d. I could let you go.” 

“Perfect. Than I’ll drive.” 

“Like  _ hell  _ you will--” Hux hissed in his ear. 

“Well, if you’d rather spend our date in a jail cell.” 

“I.” Hux narrowed his eyes at Ben as Ben pulled fully away and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Fine.” 

Ben grinned. Point one to him. 

“Great. Don’t worry, Officer White, I’ll keep things above board.” 

The officer nodded and then said with a cold note in his voice, “Good. Enjoy your  _ date.”  _

“We will,” Ben taunted cheerily. But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and he could tell by the way Hux was looking at him that Hux appreciated his shift from wheedling flattery to warning. If White wanted throw his weight around, Ben could match him pound for pound. And the last thing he was going to tolerate was a fucking trumped up meter maid  _ threatening him  _ with a  _ waste of time.  _ There was never any chance anyone was going to give Hux a ticket, much less take him to  _ jail. _

The officer sauntered back to his patrol car trying to look like he’d done Ben a favor and Ben supposed in a way, he had. He was going to get to drive the Elise and if that was all he got to do tonight he’d consider the evening a rousing success. 

Hux glared at Ben as he climbed out of the driver’s seat but it was the glare of a man sizing up an opponent, of a man readying himself for a fight he knows he’ll enjoy. Ben grinned as he plucked the keys from Hux’s hands and said, “So where are we having dinner?” 

 

~~~

 

Ben was glad he’d worn his best button up when Hux directed him to the proper street. The other man was fuming in a good natured sort of way from the passenger seat as he gave Ben directions and Ben was trying not to stall his car; every stick was different and this thing was fucking magical, but also a little fussy. 

He had to keep himself from gaping when Hux told him where they were going. If this was what having a rich boyfriend was like, Ben could get used to it. 

There was a line of impeccably dressed people out the door of the very small building, and Hux strolled past all of them like he did this all the time. Ben followed him and tried to look like this wasn’t fucking weird. 

He actually cut in front of the people talking to the hostess and Ben muttered, “Uh--” 

But then the young woman said in accented English, “Ah, Mr. Hux, we did not expect you tonight. We are very full!” But she was smiling at him. 

Hux replied, in lightly accented, but otherwise perfect Japanese, “Is that going to be a problem?” 

The girl smiled and switched to Japanese, “Of course not, Hux-sama, we always have room for you.” She looked back at the couple she had been talking to and said in English, “Excuse me.” Then in Japanese she told Hux, “Right this way.” She paused, looked at Ben, switched to English yet again, and repeated, “Right this way.” 

Ben lifted his brows. “VIP treatment? Aren’t we fancy?”

“ _ I’m _ fancy,” Hux replied. “You’re just pretty.”

Ben laughed, a strange giddiness building in his gut. “I’ve never been someone’s arm candy before.” 

Hux eyed him very deliberately as the hostess motioned to a secluded little table with orchids in the center of it. “I find that hard to believe.” Ben sank into the seat and Hux glanced at the menu she placed in front of Ben. “Oh, no need. I’ll order for us both,” he told her (still in Japanese, of course). She smiled, picked the menu’s back up, and left to presumably alert the wait staff. 

Ben smiled pleasantly and was exceedingly amused by not letting Hux know he understood every word the man spoke. Hux seemed to preen a little, conversing with the hostess in another language right in front of Ben. If Ben was being honest, it was kind of cute. He had maneuvered his way into the driver’s seat of Hux’s car; he supposed he could let him have this. 

“What do you like?” Hux asked him. 

Ben shrugged. “I’m not picky about my sushi.” 

“Good. I’ll order then,” he said, but this time in English and Ben tried not to grin at him. He was a bossy little ginger wasn’t he? Ben put his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. A pretty, bossy, pale, freckly ginger with round shoulders and--

He was saying something. “Hmm?”

“Sake, Detective, what kind of sake do you like?” 

“Uh.” Ben actually faltered. Mostly because he fucking loved sake. But when he opened his mouth to tell Hux what he wanted, he pictured Poe, gleefully pouring his vodka down the drain; Leia, smiling like he’d done something worth praising and saying,  _ I’m proud of you, Benjamin;  _ the way Phasma had grinned and clapped him on the back when he got back to work; and then he said, “Just. Water. For me. Thanks.”

“Nonsense,” Hux replied flippantly. “One imbibes on a date. And the sake is excellent.”

Ben was sure it was. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “No. Just water. Or tea. I like tea.” 

Hux furrowed his brows. Then his expression cleared and Ben cleared his throat again because for the first time that evening, he  _ didn't  _ like the way Hux was looking at him. “I see.” Ben almost told him to fuck off cause he didn't see shit, but instead he forced himself to smile. “How long have you been sober?”

Well if that wasn't  _ not  _ first date material, Ben didn't know what was, the nosy bastard. 

“Like a week?” he replied with an attempt at flippancy. He forced another laugh. “I mean, it's not a thing. I'm not. It's not. Just. Taking it easy for a few… days.” He could feel his face burning and Hux was just  _ staring  _ at him.

The server interrupted the awkwardness and Ben had never been so happy to see a member of the waitstaff. The woman--the really,  _ incredibly  _ pretty woman-- grinned at Hux, and didn't even bother starting in English. 

“Hux-sama, we did not expect you! I am so happy to see you back!” 

Hux smiled pleasantly and said, “Good evening, Mai-chan.”

Mai looked at Ben, smiled, did a double take, then smiled again, “Hux-sama, who is your business associate? You haven't brought him in before!” In English she said, “Good evening, sir!” 

But then Hux cut her off and Ben had to struggle not to let on that he understood. “I'm not here on business tonight, Mai-chan. He’s my  _ date.”  _

Mai looked right at Ben and said, “He is very handsome, Hux-sama. Too cute for you,” she added, wrinkling her adorable little nose as she teased him. 

Hux smiled charmingly and said, “Don't tell him. I don't think he knows.” But Ben saw a certain sharpness in Hux’s eyes, a certain annoyance, and it was all he could do not to mutter that Hux was too pretty for anyone, much less Ben’s scruffy ass. 

At least he'd shaved this time. 

Mai winked at Ben but kept talking to Hux. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. What will you and the gentlemen be drinking this evening?” 

“Just water for me tonight, Mai-chan. Him also. And a pot of tea I think.” 

“No sake?” the server prodded. “We just got a very special case in last week. Only twelve bottles. I had one put aside for you, but I can’t hide it forever,” she added, dropping her voice conspiratorially. 

Ben suppressed a cringe. Fucking special sake. Perfect. 

“No, thank you, Mai-chan.” Hux smirked. Ben felt heat curl all the way down to his toes. “I’d like to keep my wits about be me tonight,” he replied, matching her conspiratory tone. “He’s sharp, you know. Best be on my toes.” 

Mai shrugged. “Of course, sir.” 

“And we’ll have my usual order.” Mai nodded and bounced away. Hux said to Ben in English again, “I ordered a chef’s specialty platter. They’ll bring us the best in the house.”

“How often do you come here?” 

Hux shrugged. “A few times a month. Always on business.” Then he grinned and Ben could see his perfectly straight teeth. “Never for pleasure.” 

“Where did you learn Japanese?” Ben prodded. What he didn’t say was that Hux’s grammar impressed him. It was flawless, if a little overly formal. 

“Military family,” Hux said simply. “My father. We moved around a bit, when I was a teenager.” 

“Is that what your accent is?” For the first time, Ben saw real annoyance flash in Hux’s eyes. 

Hux chuckled coldly. “It’s Irish. My mother was an Irish citizen. I spent summers with her until I was fifteen.” 

Ben nodded. So his parents weren’t together. That was something they had in common. “Summers in Ireland and the rest of the year on military bases? Where else have you lived? Aside from Japan?” 

“Germany. Other than that, we mostly stayed in the states.” 

Ben tilted his head against his hand. He could tell Hux he was fluent in seven languages and dabbled in a handful more besides. It would be fun to watch his eyes go wide in impressed appreciation. 

It would be more fun to let him keep on clinging to his false sense of superiority. 

Ben enjoyed this game more than he should. 

“So,” Hux said, his voice oddly weighted. “Tell me about your case. Do you know yet what happened to poor Mr. Snoke?” 

“Poor Snoke? You were singing a different tune last time I spoke to you about him.” 

Hux shrugged. “I didn’t realize the office would be so much quieter with him gone.” 

“We’ve made some progress,” Ben admitted. Hux sat up a little straighter. 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah. But I shouldn't. I mean. I can’t really speak to you about an ongoing case. You understand.” 

Hux smirked again. Fuck, he really needed to stop doing that. “Do you think I’m going to go to the press, Detective?” 

“Call me, Ben,” Ben said. “Please.” 

“Ben.” 

Ben felt his cheeks flush a little. Hux’s lips were pretty wrapped around his name like that. “He’s a vigilante,” Ben said too quickly and against literally all of his better judgment. “At least that’s my theory.” He put perhaps a bit more emphasis on the  _ my  _ than he needed too, but it was nice, talking in a romantic capacity to someone who could be impressed by his work from a non-industry point of view. And as much as Hux seemed to like calling Ben ‘Detective’, Ben was betting talking about his case, at least a little, was a good way to engender appreciation with this man. 

In short, he was a shameless flirt and terrible show off. 

But at least he hid it a little better than Hux did. 

“A  _ vigilante,”  _ Hux breathed, like Ben had just said something incredibly provocative. He leaned forward in his chair, wrapped his left hand around his right. “Tell me more.” 

Ben laughed. “I really shouldn’t.” 

Hux’s nostrils flared. “No?” 

Ben saw it quite clearly in that moment; how much Hux hated being…  _ disobeyed.  _ He hadn’t asked Ben to tell him more; he’d told him. The hair on the back of Ben’s neck prickled, heat darting down his spine. 

Ben hated taking orders from anybody. 

That little nostril flare should have annoyed him more. This man was trouble, he realized, thinking back to the way he’d glared when he’d given Ben the keys to the car, the way his nostrils had flared just like this when Ben told him the CSI team would have to search his office. 

Before Poe, Ben had always had a thing for guys who tried to boss him around. A sort of self-destruct button since Ben fucking hated being told what to do. 

_ Old habits die hard, I guess,  _ he mused, grin widening in spite of himself. But before he could speak again, Mai brought a tray with water and the tea. Her eyes lingered on Ben for a hair too long and Hux noticed. His nostrils flared again and wasn’t  _ that  _ interesting? Jealous too? 

Fuck. 

However this ended, it was going to be fucking spectacular. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Ben said lightly, bringing the water glass to his lips.

“Hmm. I see.” 

“You see what?” Ben asked too quickly. 

Hux smirked. “Nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He was watching Ben in supreme amusement. 

“What are you implying?” 

“I haven’t  _ said  _ anything,” Hux said with a chuckle. He poured himself a mug of tea. “Tea?” 

“No, you’re just thinking it.” 

“You can tell what I thinking.”

“You’re thinking I’m full of shit.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” 

“It’s not going to work. You can’t  _ goad  _ me into giving you more about the case.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ben realized he was leaning too far forward in his chair. He sat back with a light thud and a huff of incredulity. Hux took a sip of his tea. Ben crossed his arms over his chest. Hux smiled at him. Not a smirk. Not one of his half grins showing all his teeth. 

An actual smile. 

“Ok, but if this leaks, I swear to god, I’ll put you in a cell.” 

“You have no grounds to put me in a cell, Detective.” 

Ben flapped his hand. “Eh. I’ll find something.” Hux’s eyes sparkled. “All his victims have criminal records.”

“Hmm.” 

“Well, except Snoke. See, Snoke broke the pattern. Snoke, he’s rich, he’s protected. People notice if he doesn’t show up to work. So I did some digging.” Ben paused to drink some of his tea, enjoying the way Hux shifted forward, the movement almost unnoticeable. “Your business partner was into some bad shit, Hux. Did you know?” 

Hux made a face, “Do tell me this isn’t going to turn into an interrogation, Benjamin.” 

_ Benjamin.  _

Fuck. 

“No, just curious really. Anyway, they’re all like that. Off the record shit, implicated in some really nasty… shenanigans.” 

“Shennanegins.” 

Ben shrugged. “Point being, I’ve started to compile a profile.” 

“You’re a profiler, are you?” Hux teased. 

“I mean, not  _ technically.  _ But practically, yeah. That’s sort of my thing.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yeah. I’m good at it.” 

“Can you profile me?” 

Ben laughed. “Bad idea.” 

“Why?” 

Ben lifted his brows. “Because you value your privacy. You won’t enjoy someone plucking apart all your ticks and quirks.” Ben paused, gave Hux a smirk of his own. “You think you’re unreadable. So you won’t like being proven wrong.” 

Hux’s nostrils flared again, his eyes sharpening into sparkling hardness. “Try me.” 

Ben leaned forward, made a show of looking Hux up and down, but he already knew all he needed to. “You like to be in control. It permeates everything you do. Your clothes are always pressed, your hair is always perfect, your house and office and car are spotlessly clean. Habits you probably picked up with a military family, and further ingrained with your own time in the rangers, but ultimately, it stems from personality, not a learned routine. This… desire to control everything around you even extends to your own emotions. You think you’ve never had an expression that wasn’t meticulously chosen, think you’ve never revealed anything you didn’t intend to reveal, but. You’re nostrils flare when you're annoyed and you hate being contradicted. Disobeyed. Plus,” Ben added against his better judgement. “You have very expressive eyes.”  

Hux’s face remained expressionless. But his eyes. The man was positively  _ giddy.  _

“You know how attractive you are. You know how charming people find you. You use it to get your way. And when that doesn’t work you flash your wallet. And when that doesn’t work.” Ben’s expression hardened. “You get angry.”

“You’ve never seen me angry.” 

“No. I did see crime scene photos though. Of the man you killed. And I found some security footage. I’m sure you’re familiar with it. It wasn’t admissible in court since it was seized without a warrant, which is good for you because.” Ben blinked. “You watched him die.” 

Hux tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “I told you I stayed with him.” 

“You  _ watched _ him.” Ben put his crossed elbows on the table. “You bent down, crouched without putting your knees on the pavement-- so you wouldn’t get his blood on your pants-- and you watched him bleed out. You liked it.” 

“Strong accusations, Detective. You would go on a date with a murderer?” 

Ben grinned and the expression was a little vicious. “I watched him too, before you shot him. If you’d been another man, the cops would have been peeling your brains out of the grout.” 

“And what makes you say that?” 

“Body language. Aggression. He probably would have emptied your pockets after, just to make it look like that was his goal all along, but it wasn’t. The man was out for blood.” Ben shrugged. “I obviously can’t talk to him so I have no idea why.” 

Hux surveyed him in silence, crossed his arms over his chest. 

Ben yawned--  _ nothing out of the ordinary here--  _ and watched Hux’s eyes narrow. 

“That’s very impressive, Benjamin.” Ben considered correcting him. No one but Luke and Leia called him Benjamin. But, a little surprisingly, he found he liked it when Hux said it. “Would you like to know what I know about you?” 

“Oh. Please. Enlighten me.” 

“I fascinate you.” 

Ben laughed incredulously. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. 

Hux shrugged. “That’s all I need to know.” 

Ben didn’t have time to come up with a response, because Mai arrived with their sushi and Ben was distracted by food-- which was always an effective way to distract him. 

It was the most lavish spread he’d ever seen. Mai brought a huge platter spread with two pieces each of Ben-didn’t-even-bother-to-count how many different types of maki, sashimi, and nigiri.

Ben eyed the whole thing in mouthwatering appreciation and realized that somewhere along the way, Mai had deposited miso soup and edamame on the table and Hux and Ben had been so engrossed in conversation neither of them had touched it.

Hux switched to Japanese once more and said, “Thank you, Mai-chan. What have you brought us?” 

Mai grinned at Ben, then glanced at Hux and replied in kind, “Give him this, Hux-sama.” She motioned elegantly to the only nameless bite on the platter that had four pieces instead of two.  She looked at Ben while she did it, and if he hadn’t been able to understand every word she spoke, he would have thought she was only explaining the food and not talking about him. “Very good for a date. It’s fugu. Very dangerous,” she said, winking at Hux. “If you don’t know how to prepare it properly.” 

“Yes, I’m familiar with it,” Hux muttered, staring at Ben over the platter of food. “I can’t say I’ve ever tried it.” 

“The toxins in the fish, when prepared properly, induce a slight euphoric effect,” Mai said very professionally, straightening a little. Then she grinned again and repeated suggestively, “So, very good for a date.” 

“You have experience in this area, Mai-chan?” 

“You are very forward, Hux-sama,” Mai replied with a tinkling laugh. “But perhaps.” 

Hux spared her a glance and a small smile, then lifted his chopsticks to the thinly sliced fish. He expertly plucked a piece from the small pile and held it just so across the table before saying to Ben, “Fugu, she says.” 

Ben allowed himself to grin, and pressed, “Fugu?” as if he didn’t know. 

“Pufferfish,” Hux replied. “The infamously toxic delicacy of japanese cuisine. If prepared improperly, the toxins cause paralysis, death.” He smirked. Goddamn him. Ben’s toes were going to cramp from curling in his shoes so much if Hux didn’t stop looking at him like that. Like he was the meat dangling from the end of the chopsticks and not the man about to eat that meat. “The goal in preparing the fish however, is not to eliminate the toxins completely but reduce them to a consumable amount. So as to induce slight… tingling. Euphoria.”

Ben let him go on because it was really rather nice hearing him talking about euphoric tingling. 

Hux extended his arm across the short table and Ben felt every facet of his attention suddenly zero in on the pads of his fingers around the chopsticks, the way the translucent fish was balanced so elegantly between the wood, the wonderfully defined muscle on his forearm, stretching out from beneath his dove gray button up, and-- oh. Oh, that wasn’t even  _ fair.  _ Unidentifiable black lines crawling back into his sleeve-- a military tattoo. Ben swallowed hard, and Hux said, “Try it.” 

Well then.

Really, what choice did he have? 

Hux watched him impassively as he tilted his head and hunched just a bit to bring his lips in line with Hux’s hand; he didn’t move to help, didn’t lift his hand any higher, and Ben had to dip just so to get his lips around the bite of food Hux had deigned to offer him. 

At the last moment, he decided to make a bit of a show of it, cognisant of the way the thin slice of meat would fall against his lips, of Hux’s eyes hot and heavy on his face, and of, Mai, inexplicably still watching them. 

He licked his lips before he began to chew and with a sudden surge of delight he watched Hux’s pupils dilate. 

He swallowed. Grinned with all his teeth. “Delicious.”

Mai laughed as Hux, without giving any indication that he was at all amused himself, plucked a piece of the fugu up for himself and fastidiously ate it.  “You will have your hands full with this one, Hux-sama. He isn’t scared of you, you know.” 

“I know,” Hux replied. “That’s why I like him.” 

Ben felt his grin stretch and Hux’s eyes on him sharpened. Before understanding could fully dawn on him, Ben said, in flawless Japanese, “Why should I be scared of him? Do you know something I don’t, Mai-san?” 

Mai’s mouth dropped. Color rose in her cheeks, and then she started laughing. But Ben was watching Hux. There was color in his cheeks too, but Ben didn’t think it was all embarrassment. In fact, after his initial shock, he seemed downright  _ pleased.  _

“Why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend spoke Japanese!” Mai tinkled, smacking Hux lightly on the arm. 

Ben plucked his second piece of fugu from the platter and chewed it with an open mouthed grin. Hux said very stiffly. “It’s only our first date, Mai-chan. I didn’t  _ know.”  _

“Dirty trick,” she taunted Ben. 

“Me?” Ben exclaimed. “I wasn’t the one carrying on a conversation about someone right in front of them.” 

Mai laughed again. “What did I say, Hux-sama? A handful.” With that, she whirled on her heel, long braid slapping against her back, and walked away.

Ben would have watched her go, but the expression in Hux’s eyes was too good to ignore. 

“Indeed, he is,” Hux muttered in English again, since Mai wasn’t exactly there to hear him. “You speak Japanese.” 

“And also,” Ben lifted his hand to tick off the languages. “Spanish, Mandarin, Russian, German, and Arabic.” He grinned again and added, because he was truly shameless, “Fluently.” He plucked another piece of sushi from the platter and then looked up at Hux while he chewed. The other man was surveying him with a shadow in his eye that made Ben shiver. 

“How.” 

“How?” 

“How.” 

Ben shrugged. “I’m good with languages. I’m good with a lot of things. But, let’s see.” He paused. “Spanish and German I learned in school. Japanese because my mother loved Tokyo and we visited at least once a year on vacation. Mandarin and Russian I picked up… from my father-- his friends,” he said evasively. “And Arabic, I learned a few years ago for the hell of it after I had to interrogate a guy who spoke it. Language barriers are annoying. It’s easier if I can just talk to them myself without having to go through a translator.” 

“For the hell of it.” 

Ben shrugged. “Took an online class for the basics and then went from there.” 

“And languages you  _ aren’t  _ fluent in?” Hux prodded. 

“French,” Ben said with a grimace. “I fucking hate French. My Italian’s a bit better. And my Cantonese is passable.” He shrugged. “Once you know enough, they all start to get easier. You can see the patterns. You can drop me in the middle of most European countries and I’d be able to get around. Little harder with the whole Middle Eastern area. And I’d be screwed in most parts of Africa.” He paused and added thoughtfully. “I should really get on that, actually.” 

He was bragging at this point. He should probably stop, but Hux was just staring at him, his eyes hot and crystal like the bottom of a flame and Ben couldn’t seem to shut up. He shoved another piece of fish in his mouth so he’d be too busy chewing to talk more. 

Hux licked his lips, and said, “Fascinating.” 

Ben grinned back. So it was mutual then. 

 

~~~  
  
It all went too well to end flawlessly. 

By the end of the meal, Ben felt like every nerve in his body was buzzing. With every passing second, he became more and more aware of the tiniest details about the man in front of him; the perpetually raised corner of his lips, the veins of emerald cracking through his crystalline pupils, the pale freckles splashed across his nose, the perfectly elegant way he carried himself. Ben want to lick every freckle, to bite those lips, to shatter that composed elegance with his hands and his mouth and his--

“Can I get you anything else, gentlemen?” Mai interrupted his musings for what he was sure was the last time because Hux said, “Thank you, Mai. I think we’re through. Please bring me the check.” 

She left and Ben tilted forward against the table, finally twining his fingers around Hux’s hand; he had left it casually sprawled halfway across the table and when Ben’s huge hand twisted against his, Hux’s pupils flared in surprise. 

“You know, I could get used to this,” Ben said, voice lower than he meant for it to be. 

“To what?” 

“Getting  _ wined and dined  _ by a  _ charming  _ millionaire,” he teased. He felt lighter than he had in weeks. He hadn’t spent the evening consumed by the lives of all the people around him and he hadn’t needed to get drunk to ignore it; Hux had simply been too engrossing to focus on anything else. He’d spoken true; he could get used to this. 

“You were hardly wined,” Hux replied and Ben was thoroughly pleased when he didn’t pull his hand away. He also didn’t deny the  _ millionaire  _ bit and Ben had been half kidding. So  _ that  _ was interesting.

“Tea-ed then,” Ben told him. 

Mai arrived with the check and her smile widened when she saw their hands linked over the table. But before she could tease them about it (and Ben was sure she wanted too) Hux had pulled away to accept the check. 

“Mai-san, where is the bathroom?” Ben asked as Hux pulled a thick black card from his wallet. 

Mai motioned, then accepted Hux’s card with both hands, and Ben stood to relieve himself before the trip home. 

He was downright giddy when he looked in the mirror, and he spent maybe longer than was strictly necessary making sure his hair was falling just right. Every man and woman he’d ever been with had told him it was one of his best features. Maybe he could make Hux want to touch his hair just as much as he wanted to touch every single one of Hux’s pretty freckles. 

When he emerged from the bathroom, Hux wasn’t alone. A largish man in an expensive suit had both his hands on the table and was leaning forward, his face inches from Hux’s. Hux watched him completely impassively, but Ben recognized anger in the harsh set of his shoulder, so recently relaxed as they had been, when Ben’s hand had twined with his. As Ben watched, the man lifted one hand and shoved his finger in Hux’s face. 

“Listen, you little ginger cunt. You First Order fuckers--” 

But Ben had already started moving at ‘ginger cunt,’ stars flashing in his eyes. 

He tapped the man on the shoulder, and when he straightened up, Ben twisted both his hands in the man’s lapels and literally lifted him off the ground. He didn’t say anything. He just stared. 

Beside him he heard Hux huff in amusement. 

“Get your goddamn hands off of me!” the man sputtered. He was red faced and livid, but also, completely shocked at the fact that his feet weren’t touching the ground. He wasn’t a small man. Ben was just bigger. 

Ben wordlessly twisted and set the man down away from Hux, then turned back and said very deliberately, “This guy bothering you, babe?” 

Hux actually smiled at him. “I assure you he’s nothing I can’t handle. Just a… dissatisfied customer, as it were.” 

“Who the fuck do you think--” The man lurched forward, wrapped one hand around Ben’s bicep and tried to tug him around. When Ben turned, the idiot actually thumped him in the chest with his index finger. 

Oh.  _ Good. _

Ben stared down at the offending finger. The man seemed to realize in that instant that he had made a grave error. 

“Oh, dear,” Hux said softly. “I do believe you’ve just assaulted a police officer.” 

Ben moved so quickly, he hoped Hux didn’t actually see how he got the man’s hands behind his back, and slammed him face first onto the table, sending the vase of orchids crashing to the floor. The restaurant suddenly went very quiet, and Mai appeared, face shocked. 

Strictly speaking, it was probably an overreaction. 

But when he looked around, Hux was watching him, pupils so huge Ben could hardly see the green of his irises anymore. 

“You can’t-- let go-- cut it out--” the man below him was furiously trying to buck Ben off, but Ben had him in that effortless grip he’d learned very early on when he still wore a uniform and had to hold suspects with one hand and cuff them with the other. 

Well, it was effortless for Ben at least. Big hands and all. 

“Are you going to arrest him?” Hux asked mildly, voice soft but still ringing through the room. 

Ben looked down at the man below him. He was the worst kind of rich guy. He kept muttering ‘do you know who I am’ and ‘I’ll have your badge’ and ‘police brutality’ and Ben desperately wanted to toss him in a cell for the night just to piss him off. The ‘assault’ charge would be enough to hold him for a few hours at least, until he called his lawyer. And of course, Ben could make sure it was a few hours before he got to make said call.

But that would mean going into the station. 

Ben turned his head and looked at Hux and decided he had better places to be. 

Namely, if the night continued to go well, in a very attractive redhead’s pants. 

Ben let him go. The man stood up, face red, and looked like he was about to start shouting, but Ben cut him off. 

“It’s your lucky night. You’re not really worth the paperwork.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice, so their little audience wouldn’t hear him, and said, “But I could still change my mind so I suggest you go back to your fucking dinner and leave us alone.” 

He turned back to Hux, only liminally aware of the man tugging his suit jacket back into place and glaring daggers at Ben’s back. 

“Well. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy having my  _ honor  _ protected by a large and imposing detective no less, but that was hardly necessary, Benjamin. I’m quite capable of handling myself.” Ben stared at Hux. His breath was shallower. His cheeks were red. His eyes were black. 

“I know you are,” Ben replied a little breathlessly. “You wanna get out of here?” 

Hux stood and it was the quickest, least composed motion he’d made all night. 

“Lead the way.  _ Babe.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOWWW This and the chapter after it are probably my favorite thus far. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> PS: The rating WILL be upgraded next chapter. Things are about to get edgy, y'all.


	5. Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date went well. 
> 
> The rest of the evening does too.

Ben was walking too quickly back to the car. He grinned at Mai as he passed, feeling only the mildest twinge of regret at the expression of shocked annoyance she still wore, and stoically ignored everyone else watching them both leave. Hux slipped ahead of him once they got outside and that was good because Ben wanted to watch him walk.

They reached the car, Hux reached out to open the driver’s side door, and without sparing a single moment to consider the consequences, Ben caught his free hand. Hux turned his head and Ben pushed through all the space between them, head deliciously blank, heart a frantically skittering mess. Hux’s back met his car, and Ben lost track of literally everything that wasn’t their hips and chests pressed together, his hand curled around Hux’s forearm, the other at Hux’s ginger temple, and every cell in his body seemed to pulse when they kissed. 

It didn’t last long enough. When Hux kissed him back, Ben pressed in closer, enjoying the way the other man was pinned to his fucking gorgeous car, enjoying the way he could feel Hux’s heartbeat skipping when Ben’s thumb was touching his throat, enjoying his-  _ fuck,  _ his lips were soft, Ben hadn’t really expected that. Every other part of him was so  _ hard.  _

Someone wolf whistled. Ben didn’t particularly care, but then Hux turned his head, broke away and Ben felt a surge of something hot and fierce because he knew how he looked-- lips spit-slick and hair in his eyes and cheeks all red and flushed-- and Hux most certainly did  _ not  _ look like a man being pinned to a car and kissed as fiercely as Ben could manage while not risking a public indecency charge. Hux, aside from his wet, slightly reddened lips, didn’t look the slightest bit affected. 

The whistler whistled again and Hux smirked at Ben. Ben, very regretfully, stepped back as Hux spoke. “You lack impulse control.” 

“I wanted to see what you looked like spread out on this car.” 

Hux blinked at him, then turned away, his hips bumping Ben’s as he started to tug his door open. “If I’d known you were a car man, I would have picked you up in the Vanquish.” 

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. “The what.” 

“Vanquish,” Hux tossed over his shoulder, voice muffling as he slid into the car. “Aston Martin Vanquish. It’s probably my favorite, of my collection. But the Lotus is nice for city driving. I prefer to keep the Vanquish away from pedestrians. Less fingerprints that way.” 

Ben made a sound in the back of his throat. Aston. Martin.  Vanquish. That was fucking  _ James Bond’s car  _ and Hux had a  _ collection?  _ What the fuck  _ else  _ did he drive? 

Ben slid into the passenger side and Hux turned to look at him. He grinned-- really grinned with his whole face-- as he pulled out into the street and Ben felt a shiver run from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and the tips of other more sensitive places at that. 

Fuck, he was in trouble. 

 

~~~

 

They started kissing in the hallway. It was Ben again, grabbing Hux around the waist and tugging him backwards into the elevator to his floor. Really, he was out of control, and someone should probably stop him. He’d never been so goddamn turned on just from kissing someone before-- not even Poe, and that shit had been  _ years  _ in the making. 

Hux, however, remained calm and composed, and wasn’t that just a little infuriating. It made Ben kiss him harder, desperate to draw out some sound, some gasp, or shiver, and he only made himself more frantic in the process. 

Goddamn it. 

The elevator dinged open and Hux shoved him out of it, one handed, and almost  _ businesslike  _ and really, really,  _ fuck  _ him. And his stupid freckles and completely even breathing. Asshole. 

He stood in the hallway staring at Hux and the  _ bastard  _ stuck his hands in his pockets. He watched Ben trying to catch his breath from the elevator door and when they beeped in protest, Hux rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Which door is yours, Benjamin?” 

Christ. 

Ben blushed and fished his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door directly in front of the elevator. 

He tugged Hux in behind him by his shirt front, crowded him against the door like he’d done with the car earlier, and  _ still  _ Hux didn’t really react. He kissed Ben back. He kissed him back and it was  _ really  _ good and Ben could feel himself coming apart at the seams, melting like soft wax, and he wasn’t used to that, he was used to turning other people to putty and not the other way around and when he opened his eyes,  _ Hux was watching him.  _

He didn’t bother to flip on the light. He stood there for a long time, fisting his hands in Hux’s hair, kissing his neck, and his earlobe, and it wasn’t until Ben dropped his hands to Hux’s waist and dragged his teeth across the place where his pulse beat in his throat that Ben felt Hux respond. 

He would have missed it if he hadn’t had his thigh jammed between Hux’s legs, but positioned as they were, the movement there was unmistakable. Ben grinned and bit him again and was rewarded with the tiniest intake of breath.

So that was how it would be. Each response coaxed out with careful precision, each reaction so small, Ben would miss it if he wasn’t looking for it. 

_ You like to be in control.  _

Of course. 

Ben could work with this. He adjusted his thigh between Hux’s legs, knocked them apart a little, and started to tug Hux’s button-up out of his slacks.

Hux put his finger tips against Ben’s lips and said very clearly, “You will not touch me below the waist and you will not remove my clothing.”

Ben took a step away, hands fisting at his sides. “I wasn’t. Trying. Did I do something wrong?” 

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that. He hated the way his voice sounded, unsure and soft, and he cleared his throat and said, “I mean. Sorry?” And of course that wasn’t much better. 

“You did nothing wrong,” Hux replied clearly, pushing off from the wall. He dragged his hand across Ben’s stomach when he passed and Ben felt every muscle in his torso contract and flare in one delicious release. “I just want to be perfectly clear regarding my expectations for the remainder  of the evening.”

Ben furrowed his brows. “Why?” 

“Will that be a problem?” 

“I mean, no,” Ben stammered. “I just. You still want to. To.”

“Yes. I have found our recent activities quite enjoyable.” Quite enjoyable. “You have very nice lips.” 

Fierce heat kindled in Ben’s stomach and flared out over the rest of his body and before he could stop himself, he said, “I can do more than just kiss with them, you know.”

Hux’s lips lifted. “No. Thank you.”

Ben tried not to let his sheer confusion show on his face. Because for someone who was very clearly very into him, Hux seemed alarmingly like he wasn’t into him at all. He’d just turned down a fucking blow job for Christ’s sake, who did that? “Uh.”

Hux unbuttoned the top of his shirt. 

He unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

It was like in the restaurant, when Hux had offered him the fugu-- Ben was almost  _ painfully  _ aware of absolutely nothing else-- just that pale hand against that paler chest, the white button sliding through the gray button hole, how soft his skin looked, how soft the fucking shirt looked and when had one single button ever hit Ben like a goddamn strip tease? 

“Do you have any expectations for the evening, Benjamin?”

“I--what?” He jerked his head from the hollow of Hux’s throat. The other man smirked at him and undid a second button and  _ Jesus Christ  _ when had Ben’s skin gotten so hot? When had his  _ apartment  _ gotten so hot?

“Expectations, Ben. What do you expect of me?”

“I. Uh.” Hux spread the collar of his shirt slightly. Then he popped the button on his left wrist and started carefully rolling up his sleeve. 

“If we are going to be intimate with one another,” Hux said very deliberately, “I would like to know if there is anything about you I should know.” 

“Like what?” 

Hux started in on the second sleeve and Ben’s breathing had gotten, really, embarrassingly shallow. How the fuck was he doing this? 

Hux stepped toward Ben again, and spoke. “For example, you’ve accurately determined that I enjoy being bitten. Do you?” 

“Yes,” Ben said without hesitating. 

Hux put his hand on Ben’s stomach again and Ben actually gasped, tried to swallow the sound and failed. 

“I see.” He stepped closer, brought his lips to Ben’s ear and Ben felt his eyes drift shut. This was bad. This was very bad. Hux had him on a string. 

He was going to make an absolute fool of himself and he wouldn’t even be able to pretend it was because he was drunk. 

“And what else do you enjoy? Tell me.” 

“I. Uh.” Uh. Uh. Uh.  _ Say something, you complete idiot.  _

Hux bit him,  _ hard,  _ hard enough that even though it was a brief assault, Ben knew it would leave a bruise on his neck for the whole goddamn world to see and fuck if it mattered because he gasped then hissed then moaned all in one breath and curved forward, melted against the other man’s chest and said finally, “Uh, uh, that. That. Was.” Hux did it again and, “ _ Fuck. Christ. Shit--”  _ And then Ben  _ got it.  _

Hux didn’t not want to be touched; he just wanted to deny Ben the pleasure of touching him. 

They ended up on the couch and Ben didn’t know how. But Hux was on top of him, grinding against him, kissing him and biting him and  _ fuck,  _ pulling his  _ hair,  _ and Ben was embarrassingly invested in an encounter that had begun with the words, ‘You will not touch me below the waist.’ 

Ben kept thrusting his hips up trying to find some pressure, some friction to relieve the pulsing in his slacks and every time he did, Hux shifted, denying him even that and really he was truly a  _ mean bastard  _ and Ben had known all along, how cold, how cruel, it was all in his eyes, but really this was some next level shit. 

Someone was making a high pitched whining sound.

Oh. 

It was him. 

Hux wrapped his fingers around Ben’s chin. Shoved his tongue in his mouth. Ben moaned like the goddamn whore he was and wondered almost absently how thoroughly mortified he was going to be when he came in his pants and Hux just smirked at him like the self assured cock tease he was.

He didn’t care as much as he should.  

He kept having to remember to keep his hands up. He’d shift them lower, than jerk them away. He’d start to slide them under Hux’s shirt, then the other man would  _ tsk  _ like Ben was a naughty child and he’d gasp, “Sorry, sorry,” before fisting his hands back in Hux’s hair and trying not to think of how narrow and hard his waist was, of how perfect he’d look without his stupid shirt on. 

“You’re very enthusiastic,” Hux muttered against his ear and Ben laughed in sheer disbelief. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?” 

“I must admit I find you far more enticing than I thought I would.”

_ Enticing.  _

“Than you thought you would?” Ben asked, voice higher than he expected and accompanied by another moan when Hux sat back, purposely ground his hips against Ben’s, and then started to unbutton Ben’s shirt. 

Hux looked at him sharply, shadows and fire in his eyes and Ben felt cold all over. 

Then he spread his palm against Ben’s bare chest and Ben forgot the feeling as soon as it had passed. 

He slowed his touches. Traced his fingertips along the muscular divots in Ben’s chest and Ben thought, as Hux carefully cataloged every muscle and mole, of the man Hux had killed in the street, of the cold look in his eyes when he’d pulled the trigger and the tiniest realization that Ben hadn’t really acknowledged-- that Hux had aimed that gun very deliberately, had pointed first at his attacker’s knee, before lifting the weapon and firing into his thigh. 

Hux had killed him and Ben knew it and the idea of being with a man who could take care of himself made every hair on his body stand on end, made every skin cell fire with heat and the bloody, compulsive thought swimming on repeat through his head,  _ Could I take him?,  _ the realization that he  _ wasn’t actually sure. _

Hux hooked the fingers on his right hand and dragged his nails down Ben’s chest and Ben moaned like he was being fucked. He couldn’t help it. Everything Hux did to him seemed multiplied tenfold and he couldn’t control himself the way he normally did, couldn’t stop gasping for every unsatisfying motion. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Shit.” 

“Are you alright?” Hux asked, his hands stilling instantly, shrewdness in his eyes. 

“I.” Ben huffed for breath. “Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just.” 

‘Really turned on’ didn’t quite cover it. 

“Would you like to touch yourself?” 

Ben heard a rushing in his ears and maybe it was his own blood pounding. Everything. Everything narrowed and there was nothing but the man above him, the impossible words he’d just spoken and  _ of course  _ Ben wasn’t going to do that, that was almost more intimate than actual sex, Ben wasn’t going to jerk himself off on his own goddamn couch while Hux watched.

Was he?

“Uh.” 

“I would enjoy that.” 

“You. Would.” 

“If that is something you are comfortable with, I would.”

Ben tried to wet his suddenly dry lips, and very, very hesitantly, his hand started to drift to his pants. 

“No. Not like that.” Hux sat back and disentangled himself from Ben’s legs and just like that, he looked perfectly composed. Not at all like he’d been kissing and biting and scratching Ben into a quivering puddle of sheer  _ want.  _ “Sit there.” Hux pointed to a space a few feet from the couch and Ben eyed it wearily. 

“There.”

“Yes. I’d like you to sit there.” 

It was strange, Ben realized, but Hux had stopped giving him orders like he had been at dinner. Tell me. Try this. Hand me that. Everything had become,  _ I’d like if you, I’d enjoy if you would,  _ and Ben’s mind was slowly emptying of every impulse that wasn’t involved in ensuring Hux’s continued enjoyment. 

He stood. He moved to the spot Hux had pointed to and said very softly, “Here?” 

“Yes. Perfect.” 

_ Perfect. Perfect. Perf-- _

“Why don't you remove your shirt?”

It was already unbuttoned. Ben let it slide from his shoulders and flutter to the floor behind his feet. 

Hux sighed, adjusted himself on the couch as if he was about to watch a goddamn film and said, “I have such a weakness for broad shoulders, Benjamin.”

Ben wet his lips again and didn’t say anything because all he could hear was that  _ contented sigh  _ kicking around in his head, spinning in beautiful dizzying circles and. 

“Would you kneel?” 

So Ben kneeled. 

“Not like that. Spread your knees a little more. Good. Yes. I like that.” 

Ben tilted his head forward, hair falling into his eyes, and tried to figure out what the fuck was happening.  _ I like that.  _ Ben liked that he liked that. He liked it alot. 

“No, don’t look down, please, look at me.” 

His head snapped up before he could think about it, whip fast and chased by a frantic,  _ why  _ had he reacted like that? 

His heart was sprinting in his chest. His palms felt wet. 

“Unbutton your pants. No. Slowly. Yes.” Ben’s cock  _ finally  _ emerged from his slacks, and he jumped a little when the cool air hit him. He almost missed the way Hux gasped and when he looked up, those crystal eyes were sparkling. 

Hux was too much to look at. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees,  fingers loosely caged together, legs spread, taking up too much space and he was watching Ben so  _ hungrily.  _

Ben heard a distant half whimper and realized he’d made that sound himself. 

“That’s. Very impressive, Benjamin.”

The Ben part of Ben’s brain told him to grin. Told him to make a sly comment, maybe tell Hux it was more impressive when he put it to use, but another, darker, quieter part of his brain seemed to be in control at the moment and all that part could do was think,  _ very impressive, Benjamin,  _ on repeat until Ben thought his heart would jump out of his throat. 

And then the dark part or the Ben part-- he couldn’t fucking tell anymore-- thought, _please,_ _say it again._

“Touch yourself.”

Ben didn’t realize he’d been waiting for permission until it was given. When he wrapped his hand around the base of his own cock, he moaned, long and loud like Hux had used his lips, and Ben was passed caring that that was a completely inappropriate response to jerking off. He pumped his fist and watched Hux’s eyes sparkle and it was like staring into the sun-- too bright to look at, so bright it hurt, only he  _ couldn’t  _ look away. 

Hux licked his lips. 

Ben felt fire flare in his gut and race to the tip of his cock and he curled forward, another poorly stifled moan on his lips. 

“No. Sit up.” Hux  _ barked  _ the words and Ben felt his spine straighten like he’d been pulled. “I can’t see when you bend forward like that,” Hux explained more softly, and Ben could only whimper in response and why the  _ fuck  _ was he making that sound, he’d never made a sound like that in his goddamn life and-- 

Holy shit.

He was going to come. 

He’d been doing this for, fuck, a few minutes at most and he was going to--

“Stop.” 

Ben’s hand skittered across his skin, and he felt his breath hitch in his chest. “What--”

“ _ Stop.”  _

He let his hand fall away, stared back at Hux in complete confusion and the other man leaned back on the couch. Crossed his arms. Waited. 

“Again.” 

So Ben began anew and when his eyes drifted closed with the heat building in his stomach, Hux barked, “Look at me.” 

So he did. 

His shoulders buckled. Heat suffused his body and he stuttered a surprised moan because just knowing Hux was watching him was--

“Sit up.” He sat up. “Stop.” He stopped. “Again.” 

The third time it happened, Ben groaned in sudden frustration. Did Hux want to watch him jerk off or not? The fourth time, he whimpered. 

The fifth, he didn’t stop and Hux said, “Benjamin,” and his pumping fist stalled without his explicit consent.

He stared back at Hux, chest heaving, and sheer fury arching from his eyes and wondered why the fuck he kept  _ listening.  _ “Again.” The moment his fist closed around his cock, Hux said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

“What?” 

“Are you thinking of me?” 

And he was. He had been the whole time, every time his eyes drifted closed, every time his shoulders hunched, and of course he was, how the fuck could he possibly be thinking of anything else, and he gasped, “Yes.” 

“What do you see?” 

“I--” Hux was distracting him, turning his mind from his unerring fist and that was almost worse. The fucking  _ unbearable  _ pressure building in his stomach pulsed and he moaned again _ ,  _ because he could feel it in his arms and legs and fingers and toes and chest, a cresting wave in the split second before it breaks.

“Where are we.”

“I. I.” Ben was losing the meaning of his words in the threads of his voice. 

“Benjamin. Where are we.”

“My. My. L-living room. My living room.”

“Very good. And what are we doing?” 

“ _ Fuck,  _ fucking. We’re. We’re, holy shit.”

“Sit up. What am I doing?” 

Ben didn’t answer. Ben  _ couldn’t  _ answer, because the answer surprised him. 

“Benjamin.”

Ben took a huge shuddering breath and Hux snapped, “Stop it.” 

His hands were shaking. He released himself  _ fucking again  _ and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to curl forward, not to put his head on the carpet and-- what?  _ Shake?  _

“Fucking me.” 

His own words sent a pulse of fire raging through his body, because Ben was never the one  _ getting  _ fucked; he and Poe had tried that maybe twice during their entire relationship and neither of them had particularly cared for it but now that thought kindled in his mind and there was nothing,  _ nothing  _ he wanted more. And Hux wasn’t touching him at all but. 

But.

Ben did curl forward then, groaned into his fist and when Hux didn’t immediately bark at him to sit up, something deep inside him broke. 

Hux waited for him to take two huge shuddering breath and then he spoke.

“Again.” 

Ben didn’t bother trying to hide anymore. He let himself moan at the feel of his own hand, slick with precome, coasting over his own skin. 

“Tell me what I would do to you, Benjamin. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

He let his shoulders shake with the sheer effort of remaining upright and he gasped, “Yes,” because it would be  _ so good.  _ Hux crouched over him. Hux’s hands on his body, Hux’s  _ cock  _ buried so  _ deeply  _ and Ben made a sound like a whimper and sob and Hux said, “ _ Tell _ me, Benjamin. Show it to me.” 

Ben shook his head, the scene forming so clearly, and so _strangely_ in his mind, full of things he’d only let himself think about when he was very drunk, or very, very _alone._ And he was babbling. Telling Hux every little thing, letting him _peek inside his head,_ see Ben face down on the bed with his regulation handcuffs looped through his headboard, his arms stretched above his head, and Hux with his hand in Ben’s hair, _pulling his hair,_ and the other at his throat making Ben _beg,_ pounding into him hard, and fast, and calling him _whore,_ and, and, and--

“Like this?” 

Hux had moved. When had he moved. 

He buried his fingers in Ben’s hair, wrenched Ben’s head back, and Ben said, “Yes,  _ yes, fuck, God, yes.”  _

And everything was obliterated in a burst of white fire, brilliant, shimmering light and stars, and when Ben came to seconds or days later, his forehead was pressed to the carpet, Hux’s hand light on his head, and his shoulders were shaking and his cheeks where wet and he was sobbing and he didn’t care, dick still pulsing in his hand, sending hot stripes of come streaking across his chest, and he was just  _ sobbing _ . 

Hux’s hand in his hair was gentle, brushing the curls off his neck. 

Ben took a huge shuddering breath and realized he was still shaking. 

Hux moved then. Silently stood, and walked away and Ben didn’t bother trying to track him through the apartment because he was trying to stop the fucking  _ tears  _ squeezing onto his cheeks and why the  _ fuck  _ and--

“Sit up.” A gentle pressure on his shoulder guided him up and Hux stared into his face as he wiped Ben’s chest clean. 

Ben opened his lips to talk and nothing came out. 

“Go sit on the couch.” 

He didn’t quite make it. He straightened up a little, and found his knees, locked under him for  _ how the fuck long?  _ didn’t quite want to support him and he managed to put his back to the front of the couch and that would have to be enough. Hux had disappeared again. 

He emerged from Ben’s bedroom, holding the down comforter from Ben’s bed, and he silently sank to the floor. Tucked the blanket around them both and tugged Ben over so his head was in Hux’s lap. 

Alright then. 

Ben could stay like this. His hands were still shaking. Hux’s lap was warm. 

The other man had made himself at home in Ben’s apartment. He ran his fingers through Ben’s hair. Plucked the remote from the coffee table and flipped on the TV. 

He shifted, stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles, and Ben jerked, looped his arms around Hux’s waist and tugged him closer.

He heard Hux chuckle. 

Alright then. 

 

~~~

 

Ben’s blinds were open. He never opened his fucking blinds. 

He cracked an eyelid, squinting at the offending window, and found Hux with his back to Ben, buttoning up his shirt. The t-shirt and sweatpants he’d borrowed were in a neat folded pile at the foot of the bed and Ben felt a pang of disappointment; he still hadn’t seen Hux bare-chested and wasn’t that just a little fucked up all things considered? 

He’d have to content himself with the memory of Hux’s deceptively thick arms snaking out of Ben’s oversized T-shirt. The way Hux had let him trace the black lines on his forearm. It was a simple tattoo, just two words-- Sua Sponte. 

“‘Of their own accord,’” Ben had read. 

Hux had smiled at him. “The Ranger motto.”

“Do you have any more tattoos?” 

“A few others,” Hux said darkly, but he didn’t elaborate. 

“Can I see them?” 

“In time,” Hux replied, bending down and distracting Ben with a soft kiss. “I’d rather look at yours.” He laid his finger tips against Ben’s right bicep, blue and black with ink. The scene crawled down to just above his elbow and curled over his shoulder as well-- a dark splash of stars and in the center of it all, a white supernova throwing stardust to the void. Ben preened like a contented cat and twisted on the ground, the blanket tangling around his hips, so Hux could follow the scene onto his shoulder. 

Hux sucked in a breath when Ben turned, and grinning, he shifted again, shoved the blanket down and laid flat on the carpet. 

Hux’s fingers on his back were cool and gentle and his voice sounded strange when he said, “Lady Justice.” Ben hummed in reply, enjoying the gentle caress as Hux traced his fingers over her blindfold, her scales, her sword. “This is beautiful.” 

“Thank you. Took fucking forever. And the shit on my spine was fucking torture.”

“Hmm,” Hux hummed and dragged his fingernail down Ben’s spine, making his breath hitch and his body tighten before he went soft and pliant against the red carpet. “When did you get this?” Hux asked, dragging his nails up now and Ben curled his fingers against the floor. Everything seemed too sensitive, like his skin had been on fire and he was just waiting for it to start burning. 

“Finished it. Three years ago,” he replied with some difficulty. “After.” He bit the word off because he hadn’t meant to say any such thing. 

“After what?”

“Uh. I’m not sure.” 

“You can tell me.”

Ben sighed, lifted his shoulders into Hux’s hand. “His name was Bell. Anthony Bell. Real. Real peice of work, this guy.” That was an understatement. “He was. We had these murders. These women. He’d.” Ben paused, squeezed his eyes shut. Hux rubbed his hand across the base of Ben’s neck. “It was bad. It was. Really bad. The worst case I’ve ever worked.” 

“Worse than the General?” Hux interrupted. 

Ben nodded. “The General doesn’t. He’d not a sadist. He’s not. Trying to cause these people pain, he doesn’t get off on it. He’s just. Cleaning up,” Ben said. Hux’s hand on his back stilled. “The scenes all look bloody but the vics aren’t suffering. They’re dead in, fuck, seconds, really. He’s that efficient. But Bell. He’d.” Ben shook his head. “I’ll spare you the details,” he said, repressing a shudder. Hux started scratching his back again. It was hard to truly focus on anything else when he was doing that, which was probably good because if he focused fully on the memories he was about to relay, he’d probably have a full on panic attack. He’d only had a handful of those in his life. 

Over half had occurred during the Bell case. 

“Anyway, I suspected him from day one. He knew the first vic and he just. I just had this feeling.” 

“You get a lot of feelings?”

“Yeah. I’m good at my job. I usually know who the perp is before we’ve got the evidence. And then it becomes a matter of just. Finding that piece of the puzzle that’ll put them away.”

“And you’ve never been wrong? Never focused on the wrong person.” 

Ben shook his head. “No. I haven’t. I mean. I know it happens with other investigators. But not with me.”

“Huh.”

“What.”

“Arrogant,” Hux said, and Ben could hear the smile in his voice. 

Ben chuckled. “You like it.”

“I.” Hux paused and Ben had the distinct feeling he hadn’t meant to speak at all. “Yes. I do.” 

Ben stretched his huge arms out in front of him and tucked one around Hux’s waist again. This was easily the strangest first date he’d ever had. He kept trying to be embarrassed, ashamed, confused about the way he’d. And how Hux had. 

But every time he thought about it, his skin flushed and all he wanted to do was pull Hux closer. 

He’d have to save those emotions for the morning, he guessed. 

“Anyway, I knew it was him, but. He was good. Didn’t leave much for us. Spent six months trying to nail the guy and he. Killed. Eight more women. He finally slipped up on the last. Left DNA-- hair. So we got him. I got him,” Ben said darkly. Hux carded his fingers through Ben’s hair and tugged, pulled him out of the shadows swirling in his head. 

He didn’t tell Hux he’d planted the hair follicles himself.

He’d never told anyone that.

“Killings stopped after that. Bell got life without parole. He’s still appealing, but. Anyway. It’s a good feeling when you get a murderer off the streets. So I got the tattoo. Lady Justice. She. Nothing gets to her. But in the end.”

“She finds you.” 

“Yeah.”

“Always.”

“Yeah.” Ben sighed, hot and heavy, and Hux tugged his hair again. 

“Are you alright?”

“Hard fucking case,” Ben said softly. He felt strange. Like all his emotions were too close to the surface. He had enough trouble keeping them in check most days, but this was new and uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. It sure as fuck wasn’t first date material. 

“But Justice prevailed. In the end.” Hux said.

“Yes.” 

“She always prevails in the end.”

“I dunno about that,” Ben muttered. 

“Don’t you?”

“You don’t work in law enforcement. There’s so much shit tying our hands, Hux. I knew. I fucking knew it was him from day one and  _ eight  _ more women died-- died  _ horribly--  _ before we had enough to arrest the guy. And even then.” Ben stopped talking, the truth locked behind his lips. “Even then, it was close. We got. Lucky. Really lucky.”

“I disagree,” Hux replied, peering down at him. “It wasn’t luck. The Lady always gets her way. Maybe this. General. Person. Is just her way of balancing out the scales again.”

Ben felt his pulse fluttering in his stomach. “He’s a  _ murderer,”  _ he said in pure disgust. “Taking the law into his own hands. No one man can serve as judge, jury, and fucking. Executioner.”

“The law isn’t perfect though,” Hux pointed out. “You just said. People get away. Bad people.” 

Ben shook his head stubbornly. “That the law exists is just in itself. No one is truly blind. No person at least. We needs these rules. What he’s doing. He can justify it any way he likes. It’s still murder. He’s still a sick fuck with a superiority complex. I have to catch him.”

“And if you can’t?” 

Ben stared up at Hux and realized that thought had never crossed his mind. Not even once. “I will. He’ll fuck up. They all fuck up eventually. And the General. He’s got a little peacock in him.” 

Hux chuckled. “What?”

“The stars. He could leave them without the stars, but he doesn’t. Like most of these psycho murder types, he can’t stand that no one knows who he is. So he carves the stars. So we’ll remember him. So we’ll know it was him, know these people died for a reason. Whatever sick fucking reason he’s justified in his head, but still. A reason.”

“You got all that from some stars?”

“I told you. I’m compiling a profile. Every scene is different. Every murderer has a signature. The General, he’s. Calm. Efficient. Completely ruthless, but, like I said, not really cruel. Not a sadist. Fuck, maybe he would be if he saw the vics as, as  _ equals  _ but he doesn’t. He bleeds them like a hunter would. Like they’re animals. They don’t mean enough to him for him to spend more time on them then he has too. They don’t mean enough to him for him to watch them suffer.” 

“It’s remarkable that you can know that about a person just by looking at how they’ve killed someone.” 

Ben chuckled almost coldly, and said, “Why do you think I found that footage of you?” 

Hux stared down at Ben and Ben felt like he could drown in those eyes. He felt his shoulders settle against the carpet, his neck against Hux’s knee. “And what did you see?” Hux asked softly. 

Ben grinned, slow and easy, and said, “A man who can take care of himself. Who doesn’t take shit from anyone. Who knows how capable he is. Who doesn’t believe in being merciful to those who underestimate him.” 

Hux’s lips twitched. “You saw that and still ended up here?” He brushed Ben’s temple with his fingertips as he spoke. Here. In my lap. In the palm of my hand. 

Ben let his eyes drift closed. “I’ve never been one for damsels, Hux.” 

“No. No I don’t suppose you would be.” Ben looked up when he spoke. Hux smiled at him, slow and pleased, and leaned down for a kiss. 

Ben buried his face in his hands at the memory. 

Hux finished buttoning his shirt and turned away from the window. “You’re awake.” 

“You’re still here,” Ben sighed, ridiculously, inexplicably, irrevocably happy. 

Hux smirked. “I hadn’t intended to spent the night, but. It didn’t seem prudent to leave.” 

“I’m glad you stayed.” He sat up in the bed, the blanket falling to his hips, and he watched Hux’s eyes jump distractedly from his face to the broad naked swath of his chest. “Are you going? You shouldn’t. We should get coffee.”

“No, I’m afraid I have business to attend to today.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Personal business.” He tugged his collar into place.

Ben sighed and fell back against the bed. “Fine. When can I see you again?” 

Hux actually laughed. “I’m glad you’re not the type of man to hide his true feelings.”

“What?”

“I’m glad you want to see me again,” Hux drawled. 

“What, like you weren’t sure?” Ben asked dryly. 

Hux shrugged. “I suspected.” 

“So. When?” 

“Can I take you to lunch Monday? I have a meeting in the morning, with some of Mr. Snoke’s clients, and as that is sure to be a very trying experience, I scheduled a long lunch.” 

“Alright,” Ben replied without hesitating. Or really considering how Luke would feel about his taking an extended lunch break. 

“Perfect.”  _ Perfect Perf--  _ “I’ll meet you at the station, yes?” 

“Yes.” 

Hux smiled at him. Ben felt cold fire flare in his stomach and there was a picture in his head, painfully bright. Hux with his hand in Ben’s hair. Ben babbling and gasping and--

“Good bye, Ben.”

“Bye. Bye, Hux.” 

Ben watched him go and spent the next two days trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. 


	6. Evil That Men Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General raises the stakes.

“Are you  _ whistling?”  _

Ben came up short in the doorway and looked up at Phasma. 

“No.”

“Yes. You are. You’re whistling. Since when do you fucking  _ whistle.”  _

Ben shrugged and pushed past her. As usual, Phasma was the first one there. Not so usual was that Ben was the second. 

“I’m in a good mood. Is that a fucking problem?” Ben muttered. 

“It wouldn’t be. If it had ever fucking happened before.” 

“Fuck off, Phasma,” Ben demanded before turning toward his desk. 

“ _ Wait.”  _ She crossed to him, put both her hands on his head, and twisted. 

“Ow, Phas, what the fuck--” Ben spat, swatting her away. 

“You have  _ bite marks  _ on your neck, you animal. No wonder you're whistling. You got laid.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ben muttered, alarmed at the blush rising in his cheeks and distracting himself by rustling aimlessly through the papers on his desk. He hadn’t. He hadn’t. 

“Who was it?”

“Phas,” he whined. 

“Male or female? Or. The other thing.”

“Non-binary?”

“Yeah, that.” 

“Hux and I. Had dinner. It went. Well.” 

Phasma gaped at him. Then she said softly, “Holy shit.” 

“What?”

“No, I mean. I figured you’d  _ appreciate the view  _ but I didn’t expect you to  _ go out with him. _ Jesus, Ben.”

“You  _ saw him  _ ask me out.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually  _ go.” _

_ “Why wouldn’t I go?”  _

“Cause Snoke, that’s why. You shouldn’t be fucking with Hux until this case is over. I mean, really you shouldn’t be fucking with Hux at all.”

“ _ Why?”  _ Ben said incredulously. 

Phasma’s eyes were oddly dark. “Look, I. I know the guy, Ben. Trust me. You two. Would not be a good idea.”

“ _ Why?” _

“Hux. He’s. He’s an intense guy alright. And he’s into some  _ shit--” _

“Phasma. I’ve literally never come harder in my life.” 

“I. Am not sure I needed to know that. I thought you said you didn’t get laid.”

Fuck. Ben felt the heat in his cheeks again and muttered. “I mean. We didn’t. He didn’t. He maybe didn’t. Touch me. Really.” 

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, weird,” Ben half stammered, running his hand across the back of his neck. “But. Effective?” 

“Ben. I know Hux. Like really well. And I know you. Like really well. Believe me when I tell you. You won’t be good for each other.” Phasma thumped him on the chest with her index finger and Ben’s eyes rolled back in his head to resist the urge to grab her. Grabbing Phasma was almost as dangerous as thumping Ben on the chest. 

“I’m seeing him for lunch today,” Ben told her, lifting his chin and stepping away so she couldn’t reach him again.

Phasma shook her head. “Hey. Have fun. I just want it on record that I think this is a bad idea.” 

“What’s a bad idea?” 

Ben jerked around and found Poe staring at them both. 

“Nothing,” Ben muttered. 

Phasma looked down at her desk and suddenly became very interested in a file there.

 

~~~ 

The call came in two hours later.

Ben let Rey drive again. 

Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much blood before in his life. But then, three grown humans produced a lot of fucking blood. Even Phasma said, “Jesus,” when they opened the door. 

Ben, Rey, Phasma, and Finn were the first on the scene, aside from the first couple of uniforms locking everything down until the CSI team arrived. Ben took a step inside. Rey started to follow him, but then he said, “Stay back. We need to wait for CSI to get here. There’s too much blood.” But Ben himself couldn’t stand the wait. 

Two men and a woman. All with four stars. How  _ the fuck  _ had he taken out three people? More rear nakeds? “Did you take them out one at a time? You’d have to. You’d.” This scene wasn’t as spotless as the others. A pile of papers were knocked over on the desk. “One of them fought back.” He looked up. “Check the other rooms for signs of disarray. If he stuck with the same pattern as before, he’d have to take each one out separately, tie them up, and move to the next.” 

“He knocked out and tied up two people without the third hearing him?” Rey demanded. “That seems.” 

“He could do it,” Ben said softly. If that was how he did it, Ben wouldn't be surprised at all. “We’ll need the coroner to confirm.”

It was a travel agency. Ben was staring at the owner, her husband, and their business partner. Another white collar scene. 

Four stars. 

“What did you three  _ do?”  _

“We don’t know they did anything, Ben,” Rey said from the doorway. Finn nudged her. “We can’t assume is all I’m saying! I--”

Ben tuned her out. Sitting on the abused pile of papers was a black note book, leather and expensive. Ben eyed the way the papers had fallen. A spurt of blood had arced across the room and splattered them. 

There was no blood on top of the book. But there was a rogue splatter beneath it.

“ _ He left me a notebook.”  _

“What?” Phasma said sharply. 

Ben pointed. He couldn’t reach the desk yet, not without stepping in the blood. CSI would probably already give him shit for even coming in the room without those stupid little booties on. “Motherfucker, he put the notebook there. There’s blood under it.”

“Shit,” Finn said. 

Ben thought CSI had never taken so long to arrive in his life. He stared into all the corners of the room while he waited, catalogued  _ everything.  _ When they arrived and had worked through the scene enough that Ben could start to move around the room, one of them handed him a pair of gloves, and finally, the notebook. 

He cursed when he opened it.

“What?” Rey said from his side. 

“It’s in French. I fucking hate French.”

“I know some French. Let me see.”

“Wait.” Ben flipped the pages. It was a ledger. A ledger with names, and beside them, numbers. “What the hell.”

Phasma and Finn looked up from the female body. “What is it?” Phasma demanded. 

“Names. Numbers.” 

“Bookies?” Rey asked.

Ben shook his head and shrugged. It was too fucking loud in here. “Maybe. I don’t. I don’t know.” Ben didn’t like this. He didn’t like not knowing. 

Ben shifted and flipped a page. 

The corner of the paper was torn away. 

Ben felt his heart plunge to his stomach. A fingerprint in blood marred the writing. “He tore something out.”

“Is that a print?” Rey said sharply, peering over his shoulder. 

Ben shook his head. “It’ll be one of theirs, I’d bet money on it. He left this for us to find.” 

“Detective,” one of the techs said. No one in the room thought she was talking to anybody but Ben. “The bodies. You can look now.” 

Ben shoved the notebook into Rey’s hand and crossed the room in two huge steps. His shoes squelched in the blood he couldn’t avoid stepping in. “He killed her last,” Ben said outloud, moving in a circle around the three bodies. They were all tied to office chairs, neatly arranged within six inches of each other in a tiny arch. “She struggled against her bonds. Deeper ligature marks, and her skirt is torn. Hair in disarray. She struggled. She watched him kill them first.” Ben turned his head. “Smart. These guys. They’re big. He got them out of the way fast. It’s what I would have done,” he added under his breath. 

His eyes tracked from the top of each head to their toes, sinking in blood. 

“She’s got something in her hand,” he said voice suddenly frantic. “Fuck. Paper. A piece of paper.” 

With careful hands, Ben pried the scrap of paper out of the woman’s death stiff hand. It was splattered with blood, and had a phrase in French written in the same neat hand as the notebook. But the scrap had been bloody before the writing was added. The pen had dragged through a spatter, leaving a red smear in its wake, and the lines were shaky. “He left a note,” Ben said, voice distant, even to his own ears. “He. He had her write it. Same handwriting as the book. It’ll be her print.”

Phasma stared at Ben and when she spoke, her voice was thick and maybe even a little afraid. Ben realized they were all staring at him. “What’s it say?”

“Uh. Hold on.” Ben twisted the paper and stared at it. “‘There is… not. Good or bad. Except. Except make. To make. Think--” Ben cut himself off, and when he lifted his head, his heart was in his throat. “‘There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.’” 

“Shakespeare?” Rey demanded. “He’s quoting Shakespeare at us?”

At me, Ben thought. But he didn’t correct her.

 

~~~

They were trapped at the crime scene for most of the morning. Ben was so engrossed, he almost didn’t feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

The note had only been written on half of the missing scrap of paper. The other half still hadn’t been found. Ben’s eyes were starting to cross, staring into all the hidden parts of this room, searching for the missing puzzle piece. 

When he did realize his phone was ringing, for the first time since the call about this scene came in, he stopped thinking about the General. 

_ On my way. _

Fuck. 

Ben yanked the rubber gloves off his hand and typed back,  _ I’m at a crime scene. Someone was busy last night.  _

The response was almost instant.  _ Where? _

He peered around the room. He did. Need to eat. Right?

So Ben texted the address. 

_ That’s nearby. Be there in five. _

Ben stared at the phone screen, heart suddenly pounding. When he looked up, Poe was staring at him. He’d arrived not far behind Phasma and Finn, BB at his side. 

“I’m going to lunch,” Ben told him. “I’ve gotten all I’m gonna get without food in me.”

Poe nodded. “Lunch sounds good. Hey, Finn, you wanna grab some food?”

Finn looked up from the scattered papers he and Rey were combing through. He looked a little pale. “I think I’m good,” he muttered. “Not. Not hungry.” 

“Well, I’m starving,” Phasma announced. “Let’s go.”

“See ya,” Rey added, barely lifting her head. 

“Er. I’m--” Ben muttered, but they were already trotting outside, shedding booties and rubber gloves and Ben was left to follow, staring at Poe’s back and wondering why he felt like he was doing something wrong. 

He heard the car before he saw it. He stepped outside, crossed the police barricade, and was distracted from Phasma asking Poe where he wanted to eat by the sound of a honking horn and then the roar of a powerful engine. 

The dark gray Vanquish careened around the corner and Ben heard Poe make a sound he’d only ever heard before when Ben was doing that thing with his tongue that Poe liked so much. 

“Ben. Ben. Look at that car, Ben. Ben. Do you see that car. Look at it. Look at it, Ben.”

He was fisting his hands in Ben’s shirt and Ben had to shrug him away. “Yeah, I see it.” 

Phasma was staring at him. Judging him. He pretended not to notice.

The car rolled to a stop in front of Ben and Poe made the sound again. 

Phasma said, “Ben.”

Ben whined reflexively. “I’ve gotta eat, Phas.” 

Hux rolled down the window. Ben grinned. Hux smirked back. 

“Are  you sure they can spare you?” he asked by way of greeting, peering past Ben to the bustling scene behind him. 

“No,” Phasma said loudly. 

“Hello, Phasma,” Hux replied.

“Yeah, they’ll be alright,” Ben muttered. He glanced at Poe, who still looked like he was having some kind of an aneurysm. “I’ll see you guys in a bit.” Ben put his hand on the door and Poe made the sound one more time. 

“ _ Take me with you.” _

Ben turned his head. “What?”

“ _ You have to let me ride with you.” _

“Benjamin.” 

Ben looked back at Hux, who was watching him with his lips tensed. 

“Sorry, Poe. Maybe some other time.” Ben opened the door and slid inside just as Phasma and Poe both said incredulously, “ _ Benjamin?” _

Hux actually twiddled his fingers at Phasma as he jerked away from the curb. Ben sighed and let his head fall back against the red seat. Hux wrinkled his nose. “You smell like blood.” 

“ _ Three people,  _ Hux. Three. I was just starting to feel like I had a handle on this asshole and then he goes and  _ fucks with the pattern.”  _

“Who was it?”

“The IDs we had going in have to be fake. They’re French natives, running a fucking travel agency. But. He left us their ledger.” 

“He did?”

“Yeah. The General. Left it right there for me to find. All these names and numbers. Still don’t know what they were running out of there, but the agency has to be a front. No way that book is above board. He’s never done that before, Hux. Left something for me to find. He leaves the scenes completely undisturbed, but this one. Papers everywhere, a book case knocked over in one of the offices. He was sloppier.”

“Didn’t you say he’s only ever taken out one at a time before?” Hux asked sharply. “It can’t be easy. Taking out three people.” 

Ben shook his head. “No.” He twisted in his seat then. “How would you have done it?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. In the army. How would you have gotten all three of them tied up in one room by yourself?”

“How do you know he’s working alone?”

“I just do. He’s too. Arrogant to think he needs help. Aside from this, all the scenes are too consistent. It’s one guy.”

Hux paused and thought. Then he shrugged. “I was a sniper. Close combat wasn’t my specialty. But. What was the layout of the building?”

“Three offices and a lobby. Two bathrooms.”

“Where did he leave them?”

“The biggest office. All the way in the back. The other two offices were across from each other and more forward.”

“Did it have a window?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah. It was locked though.”

“If it was me, that’s how I would have gotten in. Through the window. Lockdown that room. Move to the next.”

“He could have locked the window before he left,” Ben muttered, staring into his lap. 

“And walked out the front door.” 

“We’re assuming there was only one person in each room,” Ben told him. 

“He’d wait until that was the case,” Hux said with a shrug. “Watch and wait.”

Ben put his hands over his face and groaned. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m. Fine,” Ben sighed. He’d started the day so clear headed, so  _ calm.  _ “Crime scenes do this to me,” he muttered. “There are always so many people and I can’t. Tune them all out.” Hux turned and looked at him as he blew through a red light. “I’m fine. It just. Takes a minute to stop. Hearing everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I’m at a crime scene,” Ben explained hesitantly, “It’s like. My brain is  _ on.  _ I have to be  _ so there  _ to find what’s left for me. To see what the killer was thinking, what the vic was thinking. What’s. Out of place. But when I. Fuck, I dunno, open myself up for all that. Everyone else comes too. The new CSI tech who’s worried he’ll fuck something up and compromise a scene. The reporter desperate to prove herself to her boss by breaking the latest scoop. Phasma. Fuch, Phas is always trying to find little shit before I do and it pisses her off that she can’t. I can hear all of them. And.” He swallowed. He’d only ever explained this to Poe before. Once before. “It’s like there’s no room for  _ me _ left. Like I don’t even fit in my own head anymore.”

Hux turned the wheel and the car rolled to a stop. They were in a parking deck. Ben had no idea where they were or how they’d gotten there. “Nuts, right?”

“If crime scenes make you that uncomfortable. Why do you do what you do?”

“Crime scenes are the worst but it happens anywhere there’s a big crowd. Theme parks, restaurants, shopping malls. But the thing that makes me. Forget how to be me is also what makes me really fucking good at my job.” He lifted his eyes from his lap. “I help people.” 

“You seemed fine in the restaurant,” Hux prodded, brows furrowed. 

Ben smirked. “Yeah, well. You’re. Sufficiently distracting.”

It struck him then. Why he’d had such an  _ unexpectedly  _ good time even before they’d left the sushi joint. His head had been clear. Just himself and Hux in there. Maybe a little bit of Mai. He could handle that. He could handle two and half people in his head. 

“Good,” Hux said. “Push your seat back.”

Ben blinked at him. “What?”

“Push your seat back. I’m going to distract you some more.”

Ben felt a fiery shiver, hot and unexpected, pulse in his stomach. He pushed his seat back. 

“What about lunch?”

“I’m not hungry. Are you?”

“No.” 

Hux didn’t need further encouragement. In one surprisingly elegant movement, he rolled from his seat to Ben’s, put his knees on either side of Ben’s hips, and crushed their lips together.

Ben’s head emptied of everything that wasn’t the weight against his chest, the heat in his lips. 

It was. It was  _ nice.  _ Hux lavished him with slow, languorous kisses with no other objective but to enjoy Ben’s lips. He tangled his hands in Ben’s hair. Ben wrapped his arms around Hux’s narrow waist. It worked. Ben’s chest heaved with the taste of Hux’s breath-- not because he couldn’t get enough of his own. His stomach lurched with the feel of Hux’s teeth dragging across his lips-- not with the effort of trying to force down the screaming thoughts of a dozen other people. 

Ben sighed contentedly and let his head fall back against the headrest, wondered how he could possibly feel so comfortable with a man he’d known for such a short time. Hux moved to his neck. Wrapped his lips around Ben’s earlobe, and said, “That man at the crime scene. The one who likes cars. Who is he?”

Oh. Ben felt his fingers tense on Hux’s waist. “That’s. That’s Poe. He’s my. He  _ was  _ my partner.”

“Was?”

“Yeah. We. Sorta. I have a new partner now. You met her. Rey.”

“And why is that?” Hux prodded, drawing out a little gasp when his teeth closed a little too tightly on the shell of Ben’s ear. 

“Uh. Well.” The windows in the car were fogging. Ben couldn’t see out anymore.  

“Hmm?”

“We were. Together. For a little over two years,” Ben said finally. “After we. After. He didn’t want to work with me anymore.”

“You wanted to work with him?” 

Ben sighed. The lightest pressure on Hux’s hips caused the other man to sit back, brace himself against the scarlet dashboard and stare at Ben with raised brows. “You really wanna know all this right now?” 

“I want to know everything about you,  _ Detective.” _

Ben peered up at him and his eyes were  _ so green  _ and his skin was so pale and his hair was so orange and why did his words make Ben shiver like that? Ben said, “I didn’t want to end things. It was his idea.” 

“Why?”

Ben thought about lying. He thought about it. “I got drunk. And I hit him. He didn’t. He never. Forgave me.” Ben paused and stared at Hux’s chest because it was easier than looking him in the eye. “I don’t. Really blame him. Hit him pretty hard.”

Hux was silent. He stared at Ben for a long time and Ben felt his heart sinking into his stomach. 

“Why’d you hit him?” he said finally. 

Ben searched his mind and found all the answers he’d never admitted to himself before. He found he didn’t want to lie to Hux. It just seemed wrong. And a little pointless. Something told him Hux would  _ know  _ if he was lying. 

“I started drinking more. After the Bell case. Poe and I weren’t together then, but we were still partners and. It got better for a little while when we. And then it got worse. And I just. Didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to admit how much I needed it.” He chuckled coldly and shook his head. “I still didn’t. I mean.” Ben pushed himself up in the chair. “I went through  _ withdrawls  _ last week, Hux. I was sick for  _ three days.”  _ He fell back against the chair again. “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “Like. How many red flags are going off in your brain right now.”

Hux shrugged. “You watched me kill a man and still let me take you to dinner. That’s more of a red flag than  _ alcoholism.”  _ He smiled coldly then. “Besides, if you ever tried to hit me, I’d break your arm.” Ben gaped at him and tried not to let on how those words affected him; how hot his skin suddenly felt, how sensitive. “I think the important question is. Do you still have feelings for this man?”

Ben swallowed hard and the sound was loud in the quiet car. “I.” Feelings. Poe. “I care about him,” Ben said, voice very soft. “But I don’t want to be with him anymore.” 

Hux shifted then, curled hard fingers around Ben’s chin and yanked his face up so he had to look Hux in the eye. “Are you sure, Benjamin? I intend to see more of you and. You should know. I don’t share well.”

“Yes,” Ben said without hesitating. “I’m sure. There’s nothing between us anymore. I want.” He was still gripping his chin and he suddenly found he couldn’t speak. He had to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I want that too.” And it was true. He and Poe had said their goodbyes. 

And then Ben had called Hux. 

Ben had called Hux. 

Hux said, “Good,” and smothered Ben with another kiss and Ben tried to remember what it felt like to want anybody else. 

He couldn’t. 

 

~~~

 

Hux brought him back to the scene feeling shivery and relaxed and clear headed and ready to find the second half of that fucking  _ note.  _ When they pulled up, Ben spotted Poe talking to Jessika Pava, BB-8 sprawled on the ground at their feet. 

Poe gripped Jessika’s arm when he saw the car and then sprinted over, dragging BB with him. The second Ben’s foot hit the sidewalk, Poe said, “Please, God, ask him if I can drive it.”

“What? No!” Ben snapped. Jessika glared at him from Poe’s side and Ben ignored her. She’d been giving him the cold shoulder ever since he and Poe had split. 

“Benny,  _ please.” _

“You could ask him yourself,” Hux said, stepping out, and peering at Poe over the top of the car. “But he’ll probably say no.” 

Poe gaped at him. “It’s Hux right? Hux? Listen Hux. You have to let me drive this car. Please. Please let me drive your car. Just once around the block.” 

Hux lifted his brows and peered at Ben incredulously. Ben chuckled. “He’s a great driver, I’ll give him that.” 

Hux rolled his eyes. “Oh, very well.” He tossed Poe the keys and Poe whooped like a cheerleader. 

Ben felt something warm in his heart clench. Hux came to stand beside him and Ben muttered, “Thanks.” 

Hux shrugged. “I’ve got you. He can take the car for a spin.” 

“You’ve got me, do you?” Ben asked, voice low. 

“Don’t I?”

“Ew.” Both Ben and Hux looked up sharply and found Jessika glaring at them. Ben scowled again. 

“What, Poe didn’t give you enough to write about?” Ben asked. “You’ve gotta hang around and bother the rest of us?”

“What, it’s not like you’re  _ working,”  _ Jessika said. “Maybe I’ll write about that. ‘In the midst of deadly crime spree, Detective Ben Solo  _ flirts with--’”  _ Jessika paused and looked at Hux. “Who the hell are you?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Jessica Pava. I write for the Daily News.”

Hux hummed in response then turned his head and watched Poe pull away from the curb. He had left BB-8’s leash with Jessika. Hux glanced at them both, crouched, and kissed the air at BB. Jessika rolled her eyes when BB sat up, ears thrust forward and alert, and trotted over. 

“She must like you,” Ben muttered. “She’s not technically supposed to do that when she’s working.” 

“Good girl,” Hux muttered, letting BB enthusiastically sniff his hands before he scratched her behind the ears. 

“You like dogs?” Ben asked in surprise. For some reason that seemed… off.

Hux shrugged, dusted his hands off, and stood. “I’m more of a cat person myself, but. She seems sweet.” 

“Fucking mutt,” Ben muttered. BB growled at him and Jessika laughed. 

Poe pulled back around a moment later and stumbled out of the car. He handed Hux the keys and then threw his arms around the thinner man’s shoulders. Hux peered at Ben, completely non-plussed, and Poe said, “Thank. Thank you. Thank you.” 

Hux shook his head and smirked. “A friend of Benjamin’s.” 

Ben saw Poe mouth, ‘ _ Benjamin?’  _ He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Heads up,” Jessika interrupted and they all looked up to realize the crowd of reporters congregating in front of the building had realized  _ Ben Solo  _ was standing behind it. “I’m out. Poe, call me when you get something  _ good.”  _

“See ya, Jess.” 

As soon as she was out of earshot, Ben muttered, “You didn’t tell her?” 

“Course not. First real break we get in this case and you think I’d leak it? Jess or not, we need to keep this close.” 

“Agreed,” Ben said. 

“Why don’t you show me this window, Ben?” Hux interrupted. 

Ben blinked. “That’s actually a great idea.” 

“What? Ben, you can’t--” Poe began, but Ben cut him off. 

“Expert witness!” He turned back to Hux. “You can’t come inside. I can’t show you the scene.” 

Hux wrinkled his nose. “I’ve seen enough blood baths to not want to look at one for fun, thanks.” 

“What--?” Poe said. 

“He was a sniper,” Ben explained. “In the army. We have a theory about how the General got inside. Come on.” 

And Hux, Poe, BB, and Ben all trotted across the police line and toward the back of the building. 

The minute Hux saw the window, he said, “This would be ideal.” 

“Why?” Ben prodded. 

Hux motioned to the tree line behind the office. “It’s blocked from view. He could take his time getting the window open, climbing in, and not have to worry about being seen. It’s big enough and low enough to the ground that a fit man would have no trouble getting through. And big enough that he could watch from the tree line until he was sure the office was either unoccupied, or only occupied by one person.” 

Poe clicked at BB then, and the dog put her nose to the ground. She sniffed along the window sill, along the ground, and paused at Hux’s shoes, whining. 

Hux smirked, scratched her behind the ears. 

“Don’t pet her while she’s working,” Poe interrupted. “Come on, girl, pay attention.” He clicked again and BB started sniffing toward the trees, paused, and came back to lay at Hux’s feet. Hux chuckled. Ben shook his head. “She’s not getting anything. You’re distracting her,” he added voice accusatory. 

“Sorry. I should go anyway. I have a meeting in thirty minutes. Good luck with your scene, Ben.” Before Ben could turn away, Hux leaned forward, kissed the corner of his lips, and Ben felt his whole body begin to burn. “I’ll text you.” And he strolled away across the grounds. 

Poe was staring at him. “So.” 

Ben cleared his throat. “Yeah.” 

“That’s great, Ben. He seems.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Alright.” 

“Good.” Ben swallowed hard, and walked back inside. 

Behind him, he heard Poe mutter, “Good.” 

 

~~~

 

Ben was staring at the notebook. They still hadn’t found the second piece of the note. The bodies had been taken away. The CSI techs had cleared the scene enough for BB to come through and Poe was leading her through each office searching for anything out of the ordinary. She paused and whined at the window in the back office, but Ben tried not to look. He and Poe kept avoiding each other’s eyes. 

“Hey, she’s got something,” Poe said sharply, and every head in the room lifted. BB had caught a scent at the window and she was sniffing determinedly along the ground. She stopped in the middle of the room, and pointed at the spot on the ground the bodies had been arranged around. “Come on, BB,” Poe bluffed, trying to pull her away. But the dog was having none of it. She pointed. She whined. She scratched. 

Ben said sharply, “Move. Move, everybody move.” And started yanking the rug back. 

There was a door. A trap door in the floor. Ben’s heart started pounding. A ledger with names. A trap door. 

He darted forward and yanked it open just as Phasma yelled, “Ben, wait!” 

A waft of stale air, body odor, and sewage hit Ben in the face. “Fuck, light, gimme a light.” 

“You can’t rush down there--” Rey shouted. 

“It’s a  _ ledger.  _ There are  _ people down here.”  _

And Ben was right. When he shone the light into the dark hole, three women stared back at him. Young. Pretty. Emaciated. The smallest one was shielding the other two and they stared back at him with terrible sunken eyes. 

“Are you--” Fear flashed in their eyes and Ben paused. Switched to his broken French. “Help. We help.” 

The girls crowded against the back of the wall. It was practically a hole in the ground, Ben noted in disgust, a brick room dug into the dirt under the house. “Safe. Safe now. Police.”

One of the women started crying. The small one said, “Detective Solo.” 

Phasma, Rey, and Poe all appeared behind Ben and peered down after him. 

“What did you say?” Ben said sharply in English, a horrible chill crawling slowly down his spine. One of the girls jerked at the harshness in his voice. 

“Detective Ben Solo,” the small one said again, in French. “He said--” Ben shook his head. 

“Slower please. My French is very bad.” 

She held out her hand. “Are you Detective Solo?”

“Yes,” 

“He said this is for you.” 

And she deposited in Ben’s waiting hand a torn scrap of paper, wrinkled and dirty from the girl, bloody from the scene. He stared at it. He could only make out the first three words in French, but. He knew the rest. 

“What’s it say?” Rey hissed, breaking the intense silence that was interrupted only by the crying women. 

Ben wet his lips. “‘The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones.’” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo thank you all SOOO much for the response to the last chapter! Seriously it means so much to me! I deleted the extra chapter for the sake of neatness and I was SO SAD to see all those pretty comments go. I love you all thank you so much for sticking with me here. <3
> 
> Ajax ily and you're comments give me so much confidence like omg


	7. Seeing Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben has a realization about The General's calling card.

Ben stood in the doorway of the break room and watched the three French girls huddle together and eye the coffee Ben had brought them with suspicion. He needed to talk to them-- at least one of them-- before the feds showed up and whisked them away. 

The other two were practically comatose, now that the officers had managed to get them to the station. But the small one was watching him with sharp eyes. 

“Can I. Speak. You. We.” Fuck his French was really bad. “Can we speak?” 

The girl nodded and stood. The other two watched her and looked fucking terrified. Ben felt his heart clench. 

He brought her into an interrogation room, where it was quiet. “Do you speak English?” 

“Not well.” 

Ben sighed. “German? Spanish?” 

The girl looked up from twisting her hands on the table and said in German, “I can speak German.” 

Ben nodded. “Good. Me too.” He sat down across from her. “My name is--”

“Detective Solo.” 

“Yes. Can you tell me your name?” 

“Madeline.”

“Madeline. How old are you, Madeline?” 

“Nineteen.” 

Ben swallowed. Fucking nineteen. 

“Can you tell me. How. How you ended up in that basement?” 

Madeline lifted her eyes from her hands again and when she looked at Ben there was fire in her gaze. “I worked in Berlin as an au pair for two years. I was traveling back to France to visit family when I was taken from the hostel I was staying in. I was only staying there overnight but. They took me.” Ben listened to the whole story silently. Madeline didn’t remember how she got to the states. She’d been drugged. But she remembered other things. Being beaten. Being starved. “We were not to be there for long, I think. We were there for one week before. Before he found them. They told us. They told us we would be sold.” 

“Did they say. Who?”

Madeline shook her head. “They did not speak to us except to give orders. Eat. Wash. Sit. Stand. Or to hit.” Madeline scowled. “But never too hard to scar. We were too pretty to scar, she said.” 

“She?”

“She was in charge. She told the men what to do.” 

“Madeline, I need to ask you some very important questions, and I need you to be as specific as you can. How did you get that note?”

“He gave it to me.” 

“He who?” 

“The one who killed them.”

“Can you remember anything about him? Anything at all? What he looked like, sounded like, smelled like?” 

“He shone a light in our eyes so we couldn’t see. And then he said, ‘Close your eyes. If you open them, I will kill you.’ So we did. Because we heard him kill them. We heard them scream. Then he told us to lift our arms. Simone and Amelie were too scared. They shook and cried and he yelled again to hold out our hands. When I did, he put the note in my hand and said, ‘Give this to Detective Ben Solo.’ And that was all. He left.” 

“And you couldn’t see anything about him? How tall he was, how thick or thin? Anything at all?” 

Madeline shook her head. “He spoke French very well, with a slight German accent. And he smelled like blood.” 

Ben felt a chill dart up his spine. Of course The General smelled like blood.

“Did you hear anything before he came down stairs? Any movement or, talking maybe?” 

Madeline nodded and the fire in her eyes flared. “We couldn’t hear voices very well down there, but we heard walking. Three times we heard movement and then a sort of,” she paused. “Scuffle. Like the person was moving very fast all of a sudden. The last time there was also a thud.” The bookshelf, Ben realized. “Then silence.”

“How long between each scuffle?” Ben asked eagerly. 

“Not long. A few minutes at most. Then we heard voices. All three of them talking at once, and then one stopped and the other two started yelling. Then the second stopped, and she only screamed. I think he must have said something to her because she stopped and they talked. He whispered I think. We couldn’t hear him really. And then she yelled again and. And then she stopped again.” 

Ben could see it. He’d wait till they were all awake. He’d look at them all, tied to those chairs. They’d yell. Shake. Struggle. He’d kill one. Watch the other two realize what he’d done before he moved to the next. And then her. He needed her to fear him. To write the note without argument, to do exactly as he said. 

And then he’d kill her too.

“I am glad they are dead.” 

Ben realized his eyes had glazed and he was staring off into space. “What?”

“I am glad they are dead, Detective Solo. I am glad he killed them. What they did to us. What they were going to do. I am glad he killed them.” 

Ben’s stomach was roiling when he said, so softly only Madeline could hear, “Me too.” 

Madeline lifted her chin. 

“We have officers-- FBI-- coming to help you,” he told her. “And Simone and Amilie. It’s my job to find the man who. The man. But they will help you get home. They’ll keep you safe.” 

 

“Thank you. Detective.” 

Ben stood then, led her back to the break room and said, “Wait here. We’ll have beds and food for you soon.”

“Why do you want to find him?”

“He killed people, miss. We have to stop him. He has to go to prison.”

Madeline’s face twisted as she sank down on the chair she had vacated. 

But it was a second girl, the blonde, the one Ben thought was called Simone, who said, “Then I hope you never find him.” 

The other two nodded.

Ben stumbled back to his desk, and thought,  _ The evil that men do.  _

 

~~~  


 

Rey and Poe were talking. Ben couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he didn't particularly care to. He was staring at two scraps of paper scrawled with red ink in a dead woman’s hand writing. He kept picking up one evidence bag, tilting it for a better look at the blood stained scrap, then putting it down and doing the same to the other. As if he didn’t know exactly what they looked like. 

“So. Um,” Ben looked up and Rey was staring at him, her cheeks just a little red. He stared back. Poe was behind her, pretending not to listen. “Um. Shakespeare.” 

“Yeah, Shakespeare,” Ben muttered, looking back down. What did she want? She needed to leave him alone. 

“Aren’t those two quotes.” Ben looked back up and tried not to sigh in frustration. “Contradicting each other?” 

Ben shook his head and finally gave voice to the swirl of thoughts that had been spiraling in his head. “No. Not quite. He’s talking about two different things. The first-- ‘There is neither good or bad but thinking makes it so’-- he’s talking about  _ himself.  _ He’s telling us. He’s telling me what he’s doing could be argued as. Just. I guess.” Ben paused and lifted the second scrap. “But this. This is different. He’s not talking about himself, he’s talking about the people he murdered. Calling them evil. And saying. Saying their evil will live on.” Ben shook his head and his hair fell in his eyes. “In those girls.” 

Rey made a disgusted groan. 

“Oh my god,” Ben said sharply. 

“What?” Poe and Rey said at once. 

“The stars. Fuck, the stars. He’s.” Ben started rifling through the papers on his desk, looking for the massive file Phasma had compiled on all the victims. 

“He’s  _ what,  _ Ben?” Rey pressed. 

“He’s  _ ranking them.  _ Telling us how evil they are. How much they deserve to die.”

“Fuck,” Poe said, giving up entirely on pretending he wasn’t listening. 

“Yeah, yeah, look. Hit and run, three stars. The drug dealer, two stars. The kid who stole from her grandma, one star. The rapist, the baby killer, the kiddy diddler, and now  _ the traffickers--  _ four stars.  And. Snoke. Five. Fuck.” 

“What did Snoke  _ do?”   _ Poe asked. “What’s worse than hurting babies?” 

Ben shook his head. “I dunno. Sheer magnitude? If half of what he’s implicated in is true, he’s got way more shit here than any of these people.” 

“We still don’t know that Snoke  _ did  _ anything,” Rey inserted. “You’re taking _T_ _ he General’s  _ word for it that these people deserve to die! No one deserves to die without a trial and a jury! And we don’t even know for sure that your theories are. Are correct.” She trailed off because both Poe and Ben were staring at her like she’d just said something truly impossible and a little bit gross. 

“Ok, so anyway,” Ben said, turning back to Poe and ignoring Rey’s outburst completely. “We can. This is good. I can get in his head with this. He’s telling us what he values, what he believes in.”

“So, what? What do you see?” 

“Ok. Well, in his mind, he. He draws distinctions between deaths. It’s not an absolute-- causing death is evil. One star-- she couldn’t have predicted her actions would result in her grandmother’s death. But she. I dunno, didn’t care enough about what happened to her to not steal. Criminal negligence, maybe.” Ben pushed himself up from his desk.  

“Two stars-- Javez was all about his bottom line. He wasn’t trying to kill people. He just wanted to up his profits and didn’t care what happened to his victims. Sure, he took advantage of junkies, but. The junkies bought the drugs. They weren’t blameless in their own deaths. Three stars-- The hit and run. More negligence, but also. The victim would have lived if the perp had gotten help.” Rey opened her mouth to interject, but Ben wasn’t done yet. “So it was an accident, but he still put his own freedom over someone else’s life. And the rest. Anything involving kids and rape.” Ben scowled and shook his head. “Because there’s no excuse. There’s no. Accident, there’s no way to say they couldn’t have known or intended the consequences of their actions. These people, in his mind, are pure evil.”

Ben paused, took a breath. Rey and Poe were watching him with rapt attention. 

“So what the fuck did Snoke do to piss this guy off?” Ben mused.

“Killed for money?” Rey asked with a shrug. When Poe turned and looked at her, she added, “Hypothetically.” 

Ben shook his head. “So why not four stars? That’s essentially what the traffickers were doing. And we know they probably killed plenty of girls, themselves, but with the added ‘rape/sexual’ aspect that he  _ clearly  _ loathes.” 

“ _ That’s  _ interesting,” Rey said. “The rape bit. Most serial killers have some kind of sexual. Aspect to their crimes. But you think this guy is the opposite?”

Ben nodded. “Rape and sexual manipulation disgusts him.”

“He cuts their shirts off,” Rey pointed out. 

“Yeah, to get to their shoulders. He leaves the women’s bras intact even though he has to shift the straps to make his mark. There’s nothing sexual in it at all. It’s more. Clinical.” That was the right word. “There’s nothing. Emotional in any of the scenes. He’s not,  _ angry.  _ He’s. Just doing what needs to be done,” Ben said firmly. 

“What needs to be done?” Rey asked quietly. Poe wasn’t looking at him now. 

“What he thinks needs to be done,” Ben repeated. 

He tried to think he’d just misspoken the first time. 

~~~

The FBI came and collected the French girls. As they left-- with copies of all the info Ben and Co. had compiled on the travel agency-- Ben heard one of them mutter, “Looks like this guy did us a favor.” 

He sank into his seat and pushed his hands into eyes. This case was going to drive him insane.

“Hey, Benny!” Ben lifted his head and saw Poe tugging his jacket on by the door. “We’re all going to.” He paused, face coloring and said, “Um.” 

“What?” Ben drawled, exasperated and sure he knew what Poe was about to say. 

“We’re. Gonna. Grab drinks at The Cantina.” Poe finished hesitantly. “You wanna. You  wanna come?” 

Ben gave an exaggerated scowl. “You think I can  _ handle that,  _ Poe?” 

Poe shrugged. “I guess you can’t just avoid bars all your life. But you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” 

Ben started pushing through some of the papers on his desk. “I should really--”

“You did good work today. Leave with us. Come on, you don’t have to stay late.” Ben started to nod hesitantly, and Poe added, “Plus, you should get to know Rey a little. She’s not going anywhere.” 

“She’s only been here for like. Two weeks tops.” 

“And she fits right in. She’s  _ good,  _ Ben. Come on. Come hang out.” 

Ben nodded. “Alright.”

And that’s how he found himself squeezed into an oversized booth at a bar with far too much neon lighting in its decor watching Poe and Finn ogle each other and Phasma ogle a seemingly oblivious Rey.

Finn threw his arm around Poe. Phasma rolled her eyes and said to Poe, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to dip your pen in the company ink?” 

Poe shrugged. “Least he’s not my partner this time.” Poe turned to look at Ben and added, “Or, you know. A fucking  _ suspect.”  _

“He’s not a suspect!” Ben protested. “He’s. He’s.” Fuck, what even was he? “He’s not a suspect.” 

Rey shrugged. “He’s got an alibi for Snoke. I reviewed the security tapes myself. I still don’t know what you see in the guy.”

Ben gripped his ginger ale with both hands and shrugged his huge shoulders. “He. Gets me.” 

“ _ Gets you?”  _ Poe said incredulously. “You’ve known him for like two weeks!”

Ben shrugged again, cheeks going red. It felt like a lot longer. 

“I’ll tell you what he sees in him,” Phasma inserted. “He’s hot.” 

Poe and Finn both scoffed. Finn said, “I mean. He’s  _ alright.”  _

Ben shifted in his seat and stared at his glass. 

“Alright, leave him alone,” Poe said. “Look, he’s blushing.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“That’s Finn’s job now,” Rey said and everyone who wasn’t Ben looked at her in enthusiastic amazement before breaking out into laughter. She said, “Thank you, thank you,” and mock bowed and Ben thought about hiding in the bathroom until they were all too drunk to notice when he left. 

Then he thought about getting a little drunk himself. 

That was when he texted Hux. 

_ Thanks for your help today.  _

The response was almost immediate.  _ Which part? _

Ben smirked at his phone.  _ All of it. I think we had another break through. So thanks.  _

_ What kind of break through? _

Ben paused and stared at his phone. Beside him, Phasma was flirting openly with Rey, much to Poe and Finn’s amusement. Rey, for her part, was holding her own, responding with big laughs and pretty smiles that told no one present if she was actually flirting back or just being nice. 

_ Just boring technical stuff,  _ Ben replied finally.  _ But important.  _ He sent the text, waited approximately thirty seconds and then typed,  _ Are you busy?  _

_ Frustratingly so. I had no idea how much work Snoke actually did on his own. I was under the impression he simply delegated it all to his assistant or me. I’ll probably be here all night. _

Ben stared at the phone and before he could reply, Hux texted him,  _ Why? Did you have something in mind? _

_ Not really. My team talked me into going out to a bar. Bars are not nearly as fun when you’re not trying to get shit faced.  _

_ Should you be at a bar? _

Ben bristled.  _ I’m fine.  _

_ Bit of a masochist, are we? _

Ben laughed out loud at his phone and felt heat flare in his cheeks. 

Hux sent another text before he could type back.  _ You know, I like that in a man.  _

Ben hunched further over in the booth and felt a sudden current of heat swirl in his stomach.  _ Freak. _

_ You have no idea.  _

“Ben!” 

Ben jerked his head up and peered around. All four of them were staring at him expectantly. 

Rey chuckled and said, “What are you doing over there?”

Ben cleared his throat and mumbled, “Nothing, I was just--” But then Phasma plucked his phone from his hands and he spluttered, “Hey! Fuck, Phas, give that back!”

They were all chuckling. Phasma was gleefully flipping through his text messages and he saw her face change from generally amused to downright evil. “Phas. Give me my fucking phone back.” 

“Wait, you haven’t responded to this text yet.” 

“Phas.” 

“Here, I got it for you.” 

“Phasma!”

“‘Why. Don’t. You. Tell. Me?’” she intoned as she typed. Rey was snickering behind her hand. Poe and Finn were both staring at Phasma and Poe said, “What, was he texting what’s-his-name?”

“Hux,” Ben said furiously. “Now, give me my fucking phone back!”

The phone vibrated and Phasma’s grin widened. How long had Ben been texting? Her cheeks were red and she had three empty shot glasses sitting in front of her. “He says, ‘I wouldn’t want to scare you off,  _ Benjamin,’”  _ she drawled. 

“Why the fuck does he call you Benjamin?” Poe demanded. “No one calls you that.”

“I know. Just. Would you fucking stop it already?”

But Phasma was typing again. “You. Can’t. Scare. Me. Tell me.” 

“Poe!” Ben pleaded finally, throwing out his arm. “Come on!”

Poe rolled his eyes, snapped, “Alright, enough,” and plucked the phone from Phasma’s hands before she could stop him. 

Ben glared at her and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his phone under his elbow when he did. 

It vibrated. 

“Fuck you, alright? Fuck you, Phasma.” 

“Oh, lighten up!” Phasma proclaimed. “I was trying to get you laid. Like for real this time.”

“‘For real this time?’” Finn asked, lifting his head from Poe’s shoulder. “What’s that mean?” 

Ben glared at her. “I truly hate you.” 

“I’m with Finn!” Poe proclaimed. “What does that mean?” 

“It doesn’t  _ mean  _ anything, alright? Drop it.” 

“I’m getting another drink!” Phasma announced and Poe and Finn both scooted out of the booth so she could walk to the bar. Finn stretched, kissed Poe on the cheek, and then said, “Wanna go dance?”

Poe grinned. “I’d love to.”

Ben turned and looked at Rey. 

She grinned back. 

“You know Phasma’s flirting with you, right?” he demanded, intent on fucking up Phasma’s entire life. 

Rey chuckled. “I know.” 

Ben looked into his ginger ale. 

Aside from the car rides, this was the only time he’d ever been alone with Rey.  “So. You. Um. How do you like. It.”

“Like what?”

“Being a detective. This is your first case right? As a detective?”

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, it is. I. It’s good. It’s different then I thought it would be. You all play things. A little looser, you know?”

“That’s just me,” Ben smirked. “Sorry if it fucks with you. I sorta cut corners,” he added sheepishly. “I can get away with it cause I’m effective, but you shouldn’t.” There. Luke would be proud. 

“You shouldn’t either,” Rey said gently. 

Ben shrugged. “So what made you. Wanna be a cop?”

“My grandfather,” Rey said carefully. Ben looked away. “He was murdered before I was born. I never got to meet him.” 

Ben coughed and said, “Really?” 

Rey nodded. “Yeah. He was a detective too. He worked in this department. Ben Kenobi?”

Ben shifted in his seat. “Yeah. I. I know who he is.” There was a plaque for him mounted in the lobby. 

And also Ben was sort of named after him. 

Rey didn’t know this?

“You know. You know my Uncle and my parents knew him, right?” Ben asked hesitantly. “He trained my Uncle when he was new to the force. I’m. I’m named after him.”

Rey’s eyes went wide. “No. No, I didn’t. Realize. Really?”

Ben nodded. “You don’t know much about him?” 

Rey shook her head. “My mom didn’t like to talk about him. Everything I know I’ve looked up.”

“Talk to Luke,” Ben said firmly. “He can tell you all about Ben Kenobi.”

All about what a great cop he was. How much he meant to Luke. 

How he was murdered. 

“Thanks,” Rey said, giving Ben a wide, pretty smile. She really was quite pretty. Young too. Ben gripped his glass too tightly. She’d stop smiling like that after she’d seen enough crime scenes. The General scenes were easy. Because they were painless. Neat, aside from all the blood. And because the victims weren’t really victims at all. 

But what would happen when Rey encountered the Anthony Bells of the world?

Ben lifted his eyes from the table when Poe, sweaty and happy and laughing, fell  back into the booth. 

“Where you going!” Finn demanded, motioning to him to come back. 

  
Poe laughed, said, “I gotta breath,” and he waved him off. Finn turned to Rey, mimed the nerdiest fishhook move Ben had ever seen and pretended to reel her in. Rey laughed and said, “Here, let me out.”

So Ben did. 

“Happy?” Ben asked. 

Poe shrugged. “Yeah.” He put his glass to his lips. Ben looked around so he wouldn’t have to watch Poe drink and found Phasma dancing with a very pretty woman with dark skin and darker eyes. “Hey, you alright?”

“Fine,” Ben shrugged. 

“Cause you can go if you need to, Ben, you don’t have to stay here to impress us.” 

“I’m fine, Poe.” 

“Alright, alright. I’m just saying.” He paused, drank his drink again, and then said, “So this Hux guy.” 

Ben realized with a shot of warmth that he had an unopened text from Hux. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to check his phone. “Yeah?”

“You really like him?”

Ben paused. Watched Poe watching Finn and Rey dance. “Should we. Be.” 

“Come on, Benny, you can talk to me. I got Finn. You got Hux. I told you. We’re still friends.” 

Ben actually sighed and it was pure relief trickling down his spine. No one understood him like Poe. When he thought of his friends, Poe was at the top of the list. He didn’t know what he’d have if he didn’t have that at least. “Yeah, I like him. Like him a lot.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

“I dunno. Soon, I hope. I mean, I know I just saw him today, but.”

“So, have you two…” Poe trailed off and lifted his brows suggestively. 

Ben blushed heavily and Poe laughed, but before he could say anything, Ben said, “Not. Not exactly.”

“Fuck does that  _ mean _ ?” 

Ben cleared his throat. “Well.” And then he told Poe everything. 

“Holy  _ fuck.” _

“Yeah, I know. But Poe. It was. It was good. Like  _ really  _ good, like I can’t stop fucking thinking about him good, like I might--”

“Yeah, Jesus, I get it, Ben, fuck.” 

“Sorry. I just feel all. Fucked up. Like I shouldn’t be this concerned with a guy I just met, right? Like that’s crazy. I’m crazy right?”

“Fuck that. I say, you like him, do what you want. Who gives a fuck how you’re  _ supposed  _ to feel. I mean, you  _ are crazy,  _ don’t get me wrong. You’re fucking batshit. But it sounds like he’s into batshit, so go be batshit together.” 

“Phasma told me we’d be bad together,” Ben said with a scowl. 

Poe shrugged. “The worst that can happen is one or both of you ends up with a broken heart.” Ben blinked. He’d never thought of it like that before. “Worth the risk, I say.”

“You. You think?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Poe grinned. “You think I would have ended up with you if I’d listened to  _ Phasma?” _

Something cold slithered in Ben’s stomach and he said, “I guess you should have listened to her then.”

“Fuck that. Being with you and figuring out we’re not good together is way better than wondering if we would have worked.” Ben felt his chest clench and when he looked up, Poe was watching him with his big brown eyes and his lips quirked in a smile. “I wouldn’t take any of it back, Benny.”

“Thanks. Thanks, Poe.” 

“No problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a boyfriend who needs dancing with. You gonna be alright?” 

Ben nodded. “I think I’m gonna go. Tell everyone I said ‘bye.’”

“Will do.”

Ben didn't check his phone until he got outside. What he saw sent his heart plummeting into his stomach. 

_ I particularly enjoyed the fantasy you relayed to me. I must admit I’ve spent the past three days picturing you in those handcuffs. Would you prefer them tight or loose? _

Ben wet his lips. Stared at the phone for a long time before he remembered he was supposed to be hailing a cab. 

When he was safely in the back of a taxi, he sent back,  _ Tight. _

The response was not nearly as speedy as they had been. He was almost home, mind a vicious swirl of uncertainty, when the phone vibrated in his hand again.  _ Oh, hello. I thought I’d lost you. _

_ Phasma stole my phone earlier. The last two texts were from her. _

And then,  _ Not the last one. That was me. The two before that. Anyway, I put my phone away. Sorry. _

Ben stared at the last text he had typed, and after the briefest of hesitation, he added,  _ Are you still working?  _

_ Yes. Are you still at the bar? _

_ No. Just got home.  _

_ Are you alone? _

Fuck. 

Again, Ben thought, the man had no chill. 

_ Yes. _

_ Wonderful. Tell me about the handcuffs. You’d like to use your own? _

_ Yes.  _ He sent the text and then, because of the obscene anxiety roiling in his gut, added,  _ How fucked up is that? A cop who wants to be handcuffed. _

_ I think that’s entirely dependent upon the one doing the handcuffing.  _ Ben chuckled, heat high in his cheeks, as he read that, and he watched the second text appear.  _ Who’s doing the handcuffing, Benjamin? _

Fuck, Ben could hear his voice in his head like they’d done this so many times before. It’d be soft and low and slinky. Hux didn’t have a particularly low voice like Ben did, but it still  _ felt  _ low when he talked like that, like Ben could feel it all the way down to his bones. 

He texted back,  _ You are.  _

_ Would you like it if I told you what I’d do to you? _

Ben was wandering around his apartment, getting ready for bed (at a reasonable hour for once)-- brushing his teeth and his hair and fucking washing his face and all the other shit he should be doing every night but was usually too drunk or tired to worry about when he got that text. He drew up short staring at the phone with a brush halfway through his hair.

He looked at the phone, then up at the mirror, very slowly finished the pass with the brush.

His face was flushed, eyes wide and open, and a brilliant scarlet was crawling up his chest, making all his freckles and moles stand out like planets in a starry sky. 

To buy himself some time, he texted back,  _ What, are you bored?  _

The response was immediate.  _ I am in need of a temporary diversion, yes.  _

His breath was getting shallow. 

From a goddamn text message. What the fuck.

_ Answer the question, Benjamin. _

_ Ye  _ His finger slipped. He sent the text too fast.  _ Yes. _

He’d made it back to his bedroom, was sitting on the edge of his bed in his black boxer briefs with his heart beating too fast and a stupid, half embarrassed grin on his face, thumbing open his phone every ten seconds even though he knew he didn’t have a new text yet.

When it buzzed in his hand, his heart fucking  _ leapt.  _

_ I like your apartment. It’s inviting. Let’s start there. Yes? _

_ Yes. _

_ I would kiss you in your living room. Softly. Gently.  _ And then,  _ I think that would frustrate you. Would it? _

_ Yes,  _ Ben texted back because it was true. But he also felt a flare of annoyance, of. Fuck.  _ Frustration.  _ Oh. 

_ I would make you tell me what you want. Beg me, even.  _

Ben stared at the phone for far too long and then, when his heart rate had reached a truly alarming crescendo, the phone vibrated again. 

_ Well? Go on. _

Fuck. Bastard. Ben huffed out a breath and had to think before he typed,  _ We’re still just kissing? _

_ Yes.  _

_ I’d want you to bit eme. And unbutton my shirt. Like you did the other night.  _

The phone was silent. Silent for far too fucking long in Ben’s opinion. He kept rereading his last text, feeling heat crawl up his ears, feeling embarrassment at his typo roiling in his gut because of course he’d been too damn eager to text back.

One single word made his world flare with heat, made his breath leech from his lungs and his half hard cock pulse like it was angry Ben had temporarily forgotten about it. 

_ Benjamin. _

Fuck. Fuck.  _ Please.  _

He bit his own lip, stared down at the word he’d typed, and knew to the very core of his being that that’s what Hux wanted. Before he send it, he added,  _ I’d put my lips against your ear and whisper, ‘Please, Hux. Please bite me. Please unbutton my shirt so I can feel your hands on my skin.’ _

He sent the text before he could talk himself out of it.

This-- like everything with Hux-- was new territory. Ben hadn’t been with anyone short of Poe long enough to merit  _ sexting.  _ And aside from a few racy photos he and Poe had shared, the two of them had never felt the need. They had always been together-- no need to tempt each other with explicit texts.

Of course, he hadn’t actually been with Hux-- could he even say they were together at this point? What the fuck was he doing? 

_ I like that. I like hearing you say my name. I’d reward you by complying. But I’d still move quite slowly, button by button, and lingering over each new inch of exposed skin with my tongue and my teeth. I could leave marks if you like. Pretty little bruises for you to remember me by.  _

_ Yes.  _ Fuck, did he know how to say anything else?  _ I mean, I like that. Although I don’t think I’d have trouble remembering, Hux. My memory is spectacular.  _

Ben shook his head at his own text. My memory is spectacular. What a line. Really. That had to be the sexiest thing he’d ever typed. 

_ Then I shall have to ensure this encounter is particularly noteworthy. Since you will remember it so well.  _

Ben laughed, his stomach giving a pleasurable little squirm. Even in text Hux was charming. 

_ I imagine you’d  be sufficiently motivated at this point so I’d suggest we move to your bedroom. Would you agree? _

_ I’d agree.  _

_ And what would you do once we got there, Benjamin? I’d like to know.  _

Ben stared at the phone. His skin felt to hot. His stomach was in knots and they were tightening with every passing text. What would Ben do…

He’d kiss Hux. He’d kiss him and touch him and bite him and scratch him until the other man was trembling, or Ben was. But beyond that? Somehow Ben didn’t think Hux would appreciate ‘ _ I’d make sweet, tender love to you that’s not particularly gentle, nor particularly rough and we both come at the same time because it’s a fantasy so why the fuck not.’ _

No, if Ben was any judge, Hux wanted _details._ And as much as Ben enjoyed reading Hux’s (and he really did enjoy them. His cock was getting harder and harder to ignore, although he wasn’t totally sure why he was ignoring it.) the idea of typing out his own frame by frame made all the twisty knots in his stomach pulse and tighten and he realized with a shameful rush of heat that he couldn’t do this. He stared down at his phone, his mind a truly frustrating blank, and considered pretending his phone had died. 

Of course, Hux knew he was home so that wasn’t exactly an excuse. 

But what we he supposed to  _ say?   _ Sorry, sexting is too much for me, but please come tell me how to jerk off again that was super fun. Because that fucking made sense. 

The phone rang. 

Ben stared at it in dawning horror and realized it had been fifteen minutes since his last text and the others had been thirty seconds apart, tops. 

He put the phone to his ear. “H-hello?”

“Benjamin.” Hux’s voice sent a vicious little thrill through him that almost worked to chase the shame away. Maybe he could do this if they were actually  _ talking.  _ “You stopped texting me.”

“I. I. Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“You sound strange. Is everything alright?” 

“Fine. Fine. I’m fine. Only.”

“Only what?”

“Only. Alright, this is gonna sound really dumb, but. I don’t think I’m really. Comfortable with this whole. Sexting. Thing. Like. I dunno, it feels. Wierd. Typing shit out.” And then, because he felt like an idiot, but also a very turned on idiot, he added, “I’d much rather tell you in person.” And then, because he was  _ actually  _ an idiot, he added. “Is. Is that. Alright?”

“Of course.” 

Ben felt some of the tension in his shoulders trickle away. 

“I wouldn’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with just to appease me, Ben,” Hux said  _ gently.  _ Ben would have thought him incapable of saying anything ‘gently’ but there it was. Before he could reply, he heard the phone move, and Hux said quite sternly, “Be quiet.” 

“Are you  _ not alone?”  _ Ben demanded, suddenly more scandalized than he had been for the entire text exchange. That Hux could send him texts like that-- even the relatively tame ones they had just exchanged-- with  _ people in the room--  _ what the fuck?

“My cat wants her supper,” Hux said quickly. Ben didn’t recall hearing a meow, but before he could think on it further, Hux said, “Anyway, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“No!” Ben said quickly. “No, that’s not it. In fact, I really.” Ben paused. It was easier when he could hear Hux’s voice. Easier taking on the phone. “I really liked reading yours. I’m.” He paused again, and then said in a rush, “I’m so fucking turned on right now.” 

He tried not to hold the phone away from his ears and squeeze his eyes shut until Hux replied. 

Instead, on the other end, he heard a breath of air, and a chuckle. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Yeah. It is. I was just sorta. I dunno, I think I’d just rather hear you say it.” 

Hux laughed again, a low smooth sound, ad he said, “Alright. Give me a minute to finish up and I’ll call you right back. I’m just about to head home.”

“Alright,” Ben said cheerfully. 

It wasn’t until he’d hung up the phone that he realized Hux had said he was about to head home. 

So then where was his cat?

Ben felt something shift in his head, something cold and dark. Hux had lied to him. Either about where he was or who he was with. Why would he do that?

Ben could fucking find out. He had access to background checks, security footage, a fucking  _ army  _ of PIs who owed him favors. It was a really fucking bad idea to lie to Ben Solo. Hux probably wouldn’t have even tried it if he’d been with Ben-- Ben would have known in an instant. And Hux had never lied to him before. 

Had he?

His phone rang. 

“Where are you?” he demanded before Hux could get a word in. 

“Excuse me?”

“You said you were shushing your cat but then you said you weren’t home. Where are you?” 

Hux paused and the sound of it, the  _ silence  _ coming over the line made Ben’s chest clench. 

“You are overreacting, Ben.” 

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting. You just lied to me. Why did you lie? We’re not  _ together  _ so you have every right to be with other people--”

“Ben. I’m not seeing other people.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I have no interest in a romantic relationship with anyone but you.” 

“Oh.” Ben blinked at his wall. “Oh.” He swallowed hard. “Then  _ why the fuck--” _

“I didn’t lie,” Hux said finally. When he spoke again, his voice came out rushed, a little too warm. “I have one of those pet cameras. The ones that let you talk to your pets? I work long hours and Millicent. Likes to. Hear. Me.” He trailed off because Ben was laughing, swimming on a wave of pure relief. 

“Oh my god,” he panted. “You have a.  _ You  _ have a.” 

“Yes, yes, laugh at my expense,” Hux snapped. “She’s a very spoiled cat. If I neglect her she pulls her fur out, alright?”

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“I’m glad you’re amused.” 

Ben fell back against his pillows and grinned at his ceiling. “I’m  _ very  _ amused. You’re a lot of things, but I never thought ‘cute’ would be one of them.” 

“Oh, really? What kinda things?”

“Aside from terrifying?” Ben teased. Hux laughed. “Incredibly sexy,” he said, by way of apology. Maybe if he flattered Hux enough the other man wouldn’t realize how utterly insane Ben had sounded, demanding to know where he was, who he was with. Yeah. Smooth move, Ben. “Charming,” he added. 

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me,” Hux told him. Ben flushed, because of course that was exactly what he’d been doing. “It’s alright. I like it.” Hux paused and then said, very deliberately, “I like  _ you,  _ Ben. Very much.”

“I--” Ben swallowed past the knot in his throat. “I like you too.”

“I feel as if I’ve known you for quite a long time.” 

Ben laughed into the phone because how else could he respond to that. “So do I. That’s exactly how I feel. It’s kinda weird, to be honest.” 

“I don’t think it’s weird. I like that you're infatuated with me.” 

“Infatu--” Ben half gasped. Because who the fuck had said anything about  _ infatuated?  _ But then he felt his fist squeeze around the phone. “Infatuated.”

Fuck, he was. Ever since their date (was it really only a few days ago?) he hadn’t been able to  _ stop  _ thinking about Hux. The only time his brain had been clear of a certain enigmatic redhead was when he was swimming in blood at the newest General scene. 

He rolled over in his bed, heat settling in his gut. 

If he was going to be a besotted fool it was a good thing he’d found someone who liked besotted fools. 

“Tell me what you would do if you were here right now,” Ben asked plaintively, giving up entirely on the pretext of pretending Hux didn’t shrink Ben’s entire world to the wrinkle at the corner of his lip when he smirked or the way the light reflected off his orange hair every time Ben thought about him.

Hux laughed and the sound was almost pleasantly cruel. “No, I don’t think I will. Consider this retribution for your accusations. Good night, Ben.” 

And he disconnected the call. 

Ben stared at his own phone incredulously, a half amused, half frustrated laugh at his lips. 

So he was left to fend for himself so to speak. 

That wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, except, Ben soon discovered, that without Hux there to whisper in his ear, his frustratingly spirited efforts were completely fruitless. 

Ben fell asleep an hour later with a very confused, half hard cock, and dreamed of blood and ginger hair. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which El attempts to write a sexting scene and chickens out? Srsly you guys I got so embarrassed half each through that scene and had to change it. Lol what's that about though?


	8. Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben grapples with Justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I don't even know why I do these summaries; they tell you literally nothing.

The blood actually pooled up around Ben’s shoes when he stepped inside. There was so much of it.  _ So  _ much of it, he felt a little nauseated just looking at it. He could actually tell where the carpeted floor was uneven by the way the blood puddled. Rey was standing behind him, one hand covering her mouth. 

Phasma hadn’t even let Finn in the room.  

It was quieter than a crime scene usually was. Everyone was moving slowly, hesitantly. Like the blood was dangerous. More than once, Ben saw a crime scene tech pick something up, realize it was sticky with blood when it shouldn’t have been, and set it down immediately, a pained look on their face. 

Five full grown men. Members of the Guavian Death Gang. Ben even recognized one of them on sight.

Five. 

There was nothing to indicate there had been any struggles. If the rear-naked theory was to be believed, Ben wasn’t sure how the General could have possibly pulled this one off. All five of the men were large and muscle bound. 

Every scene got more spectacular. 

Like he was showing off. 

Clenched in each man’s right hand was a note, written on paper torn from a notebook found at the scene. 

The first said:  _ ‘For vilest things become themselves in her, that the holy priests bless her when she is riggish.’ _

The second:  _ ‘Justice always whirls in equal measure.’  _

The third:  _ ‘I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell to die upon the hand I love so well.’ _

The fourth:  _ ‘Poise the cause in Justice’s equal scales, whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.’  _

And the fifth: _‘Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life is to do thus; when such a mutual pair and such a twain can do't, in which I bind, on pain of punishment, the world to weet we stand up peerless.’_

Ben’s hands shook as he read them. His heart pounded. His stomach roiled. 

He stepped out into the hallway, left bloody footprints behind him, and Finn, Rey, and Phasma all looked at him. 

“What’s wrong, Ben?” Phasma asked, like all of this wasn’t. So wrong. So  _ incredibly  _ wrong. 

Rey plucked the evidence bags with the notes from his hands and read each one out loud. Ben put his chin to his chest and tried to breathe evenly. Tried to breathe normally. 

“‘Riggish?’” Phasma mused. “What’s riggish? Which play is that?”

“‘Antony and Cleopatra.’ The first and last are. Are from that. It means.” She cleared her throat. “Uh. Aroused. I guess.”

Ben didn’t have to look at them to know they were all gaping. 

“Ben, I thought you said there wasn’t a. A sexual aspect to these murders?” Rey asked finally. “This. This looks an  _ awful lot--” _

“No. It’s not about the murders. It’s about.” Me. He couldn’t say it. It was too. Too much. 

“Ben. It’s about what?” Rey demanded. 

“It’s a love letter,” Ben said, lifting his head, lips twisting bitterly. “To me.” 

Stunning silence greeted that declaration. 

“So what’s the third one?” Finn asked finally, “A  _ threat? _ Or. Or a request? He wants you to kill him? He wants you to be the one to. To find him?” 

Rey started down at the letter and shook her head. “This line. It’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ it’s a comedy. This is a double entendre.” 

“So?” Finn pushed. “I was always terrible with Shakespeare. What’s it mean?”

“Death is a euphemism for orgasm,” Ben said stiffly. “‘Die upon the hand I love so well’ is. A dirty line. He’s.” Teasing. The General was  _ teasing  _ him.

“The second and fourth are obvious,” Phasma mused.

Ben nodded. “He sees himself as Justice incarnate.” 

“And the last one?” Finn asked finally. “The longest and least obvious?”

Ben felt his stomach bubble. “He’s saying.” He stopped talking, his voice catching up with the nausea in his stomach. 

“He’s saying he and Ben are two of a kind,” Rey said hesitantly, watching Ben carefully as she spoke. “He’s saying the two of them are. Are ‘peerless’ and that these crime scenes are his kingdom. And that there is no greater pursuit than the one they’ve entered into. Together.” She swallowed hard and said, “It really is a love letter.” 

Ben couldn’t take it anymore. The scent of blood was overwhelming him. Shakespeare was swirling around in his head. He’s always loved Shakespeare, had taken three separate classes when he was in college just to learn, even though his elective requirements had only required one. He’d written his final paper in two of the three on  _ Antony and Cleopatra. _

Now he wasn’t sure he could ever think of the Bard again without seeing blood.

He didn’t realize he’d pushed outside until the wall of sound hit him, the sea of reporters clamouring beyond the police barricade. 

Ben made straight for them. 

“Detective Solo! Can you tell us about the crime scene, sir? Can you confirm this is a General murder, sir? How many bodies were found? Detective! Detective!” 

“Yeah, yeah I’ve got something for you,” Ben snapped. Behind him he heard Phasma yell his name. “Print this. Put this on your newsreels. I want this broadcast on every news channel and radio station and printed in every paper within a hundred mile radius.” Several camera men surged forward. Ben looked directly into the nearest camera and half growled, “‘As thou urgest justice, be assured thou shalt have justice. More than thou desir'st.'"

With that, he whirled on his heel and strolled back behind the police barricade to conclude his examination of the scene. 

If the General wanted to play, Ben would fucking play.

 

~~~

 

And then there was nothing. 

For four weeks. 

Nothing. 

 

~~~

 

Someone was pounding at Ben’s door. It was his fucking day off and someone was pounding at his door. 

He considered ignoring it. He’d been up late last night, watching some documentary with Hux and combing the crime scenes in his head. He buried his head under his pillow and didn’t move.

Hux elbowed him in the ribs. “Someone’s at your door, you idiot. Go answer it.” 

“I don’t wanna,” Ben complained. “I.” He paused, listening. The knock sounded again. “I don’t want to see him anyway.”

“You don’t even know who it is.” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Who?”

Ben groaned and moved to sit on the edge of his bed. “My dad.” 

Hux leaned up on his elbow and pushed his sleep mussed hair out of his face, eyes instantly clear and sharpening into interest. “Really? How do you know?”

Ben pointed at his bedroom door and as if on que, Han yelled, “Kid, open the goddamn door!” 

Ben sighed and finally stood. Hux started to push the covers back and Ben said, “No, no, stay there. I’ll get rid of him.” Hux stared at him. The soft, gray long sleeved shirt he’d worn to bed had ridden up on his hips and Ben could see his narrow hip bones, white skin stretched over well defined muscle, the soft trail of ginger curls disappearing into his pajama bottoms. Despite Han’s incessant pounding at Ben’s door, he couldn’t resist taking a moment to stare, fierce, brilliant heat kindling in the bottom of his stomach. 

He felt like a starving man staring at a feast he wasn’t allowed to partake in. It was getting to be fucking unbearable. 

“Go,” Hux commanded, laughter on his lips. He tugged his shirt down. 

Ben went. 

“Kid!” Han shouted exherberently when Ben opened the door and glared at him in silence.  He shoved past Ben, only pausing to pat him once on his naked shoulder. “Thought you were dead.” 

“Maybe I wasn’t home,” Ben said petulantly. “What do you want?” 

“That any way to greet your old man?”

“When you drop in unannounced it is.” Ben crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “Why are you here? And don’t feed me any bullshit about missing me, we both know it’s not true.” 

Han lifted his dark eyes to Ben’s face and Ben saw a flash of something… something that made his chest clench. He looked down so he wouldn’t have to examine it too closely. Han was holding a bottle in his hands. Han saw him looking and held it out. 

“Brought you something. I know scotch’s your favorite.” 

Ben felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the bottle. Ben couldn’t even begin to guess how much it cost-- he knew a truly ridiculously expensive bottle of liquor when he saw one. “I.” Han thrust it into his hands. Ben took it. “I shouldn’t take this.” 

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Cause I’m not. Drinking. Right now.”

“Whatd’ya mean you’re not drinking?” Han demanded incredulously. “I always told you ‘never trust a man who doesn't drink.’” 

Ben shuttered his expression. “It’s been a helluva year.” 

“Poe put you up to this? What’s he got you convinced it ain’t healthy or some shit?” Han scoffed and muttered under his breath. “Nags.” 

“Poe and I broke up like seven months ago,” Ben said loudly. 

Han blinked at him. “Oh. Oh. I’m sorry, Benny. Why?”

“I got drunk and punched him in the face.” Han drew back. Ben set the scotch on his counter and drawled, “So yeah. I’m not drinking.” 

“Ben. Your mother and I raised you better than that,” Han said suddenly stern. “You--”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I haven’t seen you in a year. Mom and I have talked. Poe and I are cool. Don’t fucking lecture me.”

“You and Poe are cool?”

“Yeah, we’re cool. We’re both seeing new people. Things are. Are good.” 

“I’m. I’m glad to hear that, Benny, I really am.” Han thrust his hands into his pockets and stared around the room. Ben crossed his arms over his chest again and waited. And waited. And waited. And then, “Listen, Ben, I need a favor.” 

“Of course,” Ben drawled. 

“Don’t act like that! I came to see you, kid! Thought we could get some lunch or something. But you know. While we’re here. Since we’re alone and all--”

“You’re not alone,” Hux said cooly from Ben’s bedroom door, choosing that moment to emerge, fully dressed in an incredibly well fitted long sleeved black v-neck and a pair of jeans Ben was sure must have been stitched by fucking elves for the way they hung off his hips. Ben had had a very distinct, very obvious  _ physical reaction  _ the first time he’d seen Hux in jeans-- he’d gotten so used to seeing the other man in suits and slacks there had been something almost  _ obscene  _ about seeing him in casual clothing. 

The fact that Ben found Hux in jeans nigh obscene was probably a testament to what dating a man for a month and half and still not knowing what his chest looked like was doing to him. 

He sorta felt like he was losing his mind, but it was a pleasant sort of insanity-- he’d developed a new appreciation for everything he could see. That strip of skin revealed when Hux lifted his arms and his shirt rode up; the translucent white of his wrists; the creamy hollow of his neck; the way his golden-orange eyelashes practically glowed when he closed his eyes and they brushed his freckled cheeks.

The stray hints of the tattoos on Hux’s arms-- mostly the ‘Sua Sponte’, although Ben knew he had something else on the outside of his bicep that he was hiding as well-- had become downright erotic.  He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and the fact it so brazenly showed the black lettering on his forearm right now made Ben feel a little insane; he almost couldn’t believe Hux intended to go out like that. Ben usually only saw this when Hux was staying over and borrowed a T-shirt. His heartbeat sped up and he had to struggle not to suck in a shallow breath. 

“I--” Han actually jumped. “Fuck, Ben, why didn’t you tell me someone was here?”

“Because I wanted to avoid. This,” Ben groaned. 

Hux smirked and stepped forward with his hand out stretched. “Good morning, Mr. Solo. Armitage Hux.” 

“Hey, nice to meetcha, kid, nice to meetcha!” Han slapped Hux on the shoulder (Hux had the decency to only look mildly affronted) and then paused, his hand lingering. “Fuck, that’s soft. What is that, cashmere?” he muttered, running his hand over Hux’s shoulder. 

Hux chuckled in what Han probably thought was amusement but what Ben knew was actually condescension. Ben hissed, “Dad.” 

Han said, “Oh. Sorry.” And let his hand drop. “It’s a nice shirt.” 

“Thank you,” Hux replied smoothly. He crossed to Ben and Ben realized he had his leather bag slung over his shoulder. 

“You’re leaving?” Ben said in obvious disappointment. 

“I thought I’d let you speak to your father in private. I’ll pick you up at nine for dinner.”

It wasn’t a question, but Ben still said, “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” 

“Wear a tie.” Hux added before he smirked by way of farewell and leaned forward to brush a chaste kiss against the corner of Ben’s mouth. He turned his head with his hand on the door and said, “Mr. Solo.” 

Han whistled when he was gone. “Too cute for you, kid.” 

“Rich too,” Ben half taunted, half bragged. “Why are you here.”

“I got a job for you.”

“No,” Ben said voice rising instantly. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. Last time I helped you with a job, I almost lost my badge.” 

“You did not!” Han protested. 

“Too damn close!” Ben shouted back. “If Luke had found out he would have  _ had  _ to fire me-- and that’s if he didn’t have to fucking stick me in a cell! I’m not doing it, you can fuck off.”

“Hey, language, kid!”

“Don’t ‘language’ me, I’m a fucking adult. My badge is not your personal get outta jail free card, Dad! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You haven’t even heard the job!” 

“I don’t need to! I’m not doing it!”

“It’s real simple, Benny! Easy. It’s a sure thing!” 

“Dad!” Ben groaned. “That’s what you  _ always say _ .”

“You don’t even have to leave the station!”

Ben went quiet. “What do you want?” he asked dangerously. 

“So I. Uh. I sorta. Owe a guy a favor. I might have maybe lost a shipment of some.  _ Very expensive--” _

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah. Well. The Guavians are breathing down my neck and it’d be real easy for you to make it all disappear, Benny boy.” 

“The  _ Guavians?”  _ Ben said, incredulous. “Why are you fucking with the  _ Guavians?  _ They almost  _ killed you  _ last time. _ ” _

“Yeah, well. They were in a tight spot. About a month back, some psychopath took out five of their guys. Higher ups--”

“I know,” Ben interrupted. “That’s my case. The General got them.” 

“Who?” Han scowled.

“The General. He’s a vigilante. Kills criminals. You haven’t seen the news?” 

“I’ve been outta the country til about a week ago. Anyway. They struck up a deal. I get them a USB drive confiscated at the scene, they call us even.” 

“A USB drive?” Ben asked, brow furrowing. “A red one? Encrypted?”

“That’s the one!” 

Ben shook his head. The Guavian scene had been full of evidence against the smuggling ring. The USB drive was heavily encrypted-- as far as Ben knew it was currently sitting in the bottom of an evidence box, waiting for someone to take the time to break it. But seeing as how it was related specifically to the Guavians’ crimes and not The General’s, Ben had moved it down his list of priorities. 

“What’s on it?”

“They didn’t say. Just said it’d be real bad for them if it got cracked and ended up with the feds.” 

Ben tilted his head back and stared at Han. Slipping away with the thumb drive would be nothing. No one would notice. No one would care. And since Ben was in charge of the case, he could postpone the realization that it had gone missing by at least a few weeks. With something that small, everyone would assume it had just been misplaced. Lost. 

“What’s in it for me?” 

“You’d see your old man a lot more often if I didn’t have to worry about keeping my head down around here,” Han wheedled.

“Try again,” Ben dead panned. 

“Five grand,” Han said. “Half now, half when you put the drive in my hand.” 

Ben lifted a brow. “Make it eight.” 

“Eight?”

“Eight.”

“Why?”

“Cause I know you came prepared to go as high as ten, but since I’m not particularly hurting for cash right now I’ll let the two go as a family discount.”

Han chuckled. “I taught you well, kid.” 

“Yeah. I’m not doing this again, Dad. Don’t ask me. Last time.”

“Last time, kid, I know.” 

“Fine. Take some of that two grand and buy me food,” he sighed. 

“Sure thing.” 

He changed out of his pajama pants quickly and when he stepped back into the main room, he asked, “Uncle Chewie in town too?” 

Han shook his head. “He says ‘hi’ though. Wishes he coulda come. He’s handling some other business,” Han said evasively. Ben didn’t press. He didn’t need to know what Han and Chewie got up to. It was better that way-- less illegal. Han chuckled suddenly. “You know he shaved a month ago?” 

Ben looked up. “You’re  _ kidding.”  _

“Nope. First time I’ve seen his face in, fuck, at least thirty years. It was weird. He didn’t like it. He’s already growing the beard back.” 

“Good,” Ben said with a shudder. Picturing Uncle Chewie without his truly impressive mane of wiry gray and brown hair and beard was like picturing a shaved cat-- sad and a little disconcerting. “You talked to Mom?” Ben added, playing at being casual as he opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. 

Han grimaced. “No. Not. Not yet.”

“You planning to?”

“You think she’d wanna see me?” 

Ben shrugged. “I dunno. You should probably ask.”

“How’s she doing?” Han asked, voice equally casual. Ben saw right through him. “She, uh. She seeing anyone?”

“No. Not last time I talked to her.”

“When was that?” 

“A few days ago. Hux took us out to lunch.” 

“He’s met your mom already?” Han laughed. “You must like this guy. How long you been together?”

“Eh, month and a half,” Ben muttered, like he didn’t know the exact number of days it had been since their first date. Since they’d done more than kiss and Ben had done anything more than desperately palm at Hux’s chest through his shirt. 

“Is it serious?”

“Fuck, I dunno, Dad,” Ben said in exasperation. “Can we not? Since when do you give a fuck about my personal life anyway?” 

Han shrugged. “I dunno, aren’t. Dads supposed to ask this kinda shit?”

“No,” Ben said firmly. “Moms are. Dads can stick to fucking sports and the weather and, what the hell, for you, I’ll throw in ‘guess how many laws I broke last week.’”

“Fine by me,” Han said brightly. “Keep things simple.” He clapped Ben on the back. “Where you wanna eat?” 

 

~~~

 

Ben had his bagel half way to his lips when his phone rang. It was Phasma. 

“What?” 

“Fuck I do to you? That how you answer your phone?” Phasma demanded. 

“When you call me on my day off it is,” Ben replied. 

“Yeah, well, figured you’d wanna hear this. We got a new General scene.” 

Ben sat up, bagel completely forgotten. “Where? Who? How many?” 

“Just one,” Phasma said darkly. “It’s. Five-six-four Maple Avenue.” 

“Maple Avenue?” Ben said in surprise. “You sure that’s the right address?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. Ben, the victim is Blake Johnson.” 

Ben sucked in a breath. Han said, “Don’t tell me you have to go in?” 

“Blake Johnson?” Ben hissed. “Like the  _ politician  _ Blake Johnson?” 

“The very same. Ben. His wife and kids were home. He went to bed with his wife. She woke up in the morning and found him. In his office.”

“Holy shit.” 

“They have cameras. They have an alarm system. They have a fucking rottweiler who I swear to God comes up to my elbow. No one heard or saw a damn thing. And.” 

“And? What? Spit it out, Phas.” 

“He. Left more messages, Ben. Just get over here, alright?” 

“I’m on my way.” 

“Fuck, really?” Han complained. 

Ben disconnected his call and said, “I need you to drive me to five-six-four Maple Avenue.” 

“Fuck is your car?” 

“Parked at Mom’s.” Ben blushed. “I sorta. Almost got a DWI a few months back. Uncle Luke agreed to make the charges disappear if I left my car at Mom’s for a while.” He shrugged. “Course, I can probably get it back now. I’ve been sober for almost two months.” 

“Sober.” Han scowled. “You don’t need to be  _ sober,  _ kid. You just need to be smart. Drink less and less often. This cold-turkey-one-hundred-percent-dry bullshit is ridiculous.” 

Ben swallowed hard. He didn’t know why Han’s protests to the contrary bothered him more than Poe and Leia’s assertions that he drank too much. “Dad, I went through withdrawals,” he said finally with a sigh. “I don’t. I dunno. I don’t think I’m an  _ alcoholic  _ but. It was getting bad. They're not wrong.” He pushed out of his seat and shrugged again. “I mean, I  _ hit  _ Poe. Hit him really hard. Almost broke my hand on his face.” 

“Jesus, Benny.” 

“Yeah. So. Let’s go.” 

“Sure. Alright.” Han was staring at him strangely, brow furrowed. Like he didn’t quite know him. Ben supposed he really didn’t. 

 

~~~

 

“Fuck,” Ben breathed the moment he stepped into the room. The office was stunning. Wood paneling and leather and brass everywhere. 

And scrawled in blood over the door in neat blocky print was a message: ‘ _ The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ _

Ben felt his skin begin to crawl. “Bastard.” 

“Ben,” Rey called. Ben turned to look at her and she held out an evidence bag. There was another letter, this one written by Johnson himself. ‘ _ Though justice be thy plea, consider this: that in the course of justice, none of us should see salvation.’ _

“Well?” Phasma asked. “I think I get the jist of this, but. Let me hear you say it.” 

“I’m the lady,” Ben said with a scowl. “He’s. Responding to my message. Saying my protests ring hollow. Why  _ the fuck  _ does he think I  _ agree with him?  _ And then the rest-- he’s calling us the same again. Saying I’m just as guilty.” 

Phasma shook her head. “Fucking nutcase, Ben. I’m not sure you should be on this case.” 

“Fuck do you mean?” Ben said loudly. “This is  _ my case--” _

“He’s  _ baiting you!”  _ Phasma exclaimed. “And if he really does think you and he share some kind of. Of. Fuck, I dunno,  _ destiny  _ or something, maybe the best thing we can do is remove you from the case. Maybe he’ll slip up then, or fuck, stop killing people!” 

“No,” Ben said sharply. “He controls things, that’s who he is-- you take me off the case, you remove that aspect of control as he sees it, who  _ knows  _ what he’ll do. You think he’s unpredictable now? Test his command of the world.” 

Phasma glared at him. 

Ben processed the rest of the crime scene. 

No one heard anything. No one saw anything. 

The camera feeds had been erased. 

 

~~~

 

“Ben. I’m speaking and you’re not paying attention.” 

“What? Fuck, Hux, sorry,” Ben muttered into his menu. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Just. This case. It’s. It’s getting to me,” he admitted. 

“I thought you said this was the first new scene in a month.”

“What, like I  _ got a break?”  _ Ben laughed incredulously. “He’s.” Ben paused. He hadn’t told Hux about the notes. No one outside the department knew about them. “He’s writing me love letters, Hux.” 

“ _ What?”  _

“Shakespeare. He’s leaving  _ Shakespeare  _ at the scene. Lines about justice and then. Lines about love.” 

Hux looked at him with raised brows and Ben felt a little cold. Hux clearly didn’t understand what this was doing to him. 

“I used to love Shakespeare,” Ben admitted. “When I think of him now, all I see is blood.” 

Hux tilted his head back and said softly, “He’s  _ ruined  _ Shakespeare for you?” 

“Pretty fucking much. I mean,  _ fuck, Hux.  _ He quoted ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ at me.”

“Something special about that play?” Hux pressed, taking a sip of his wine after he spoke. 

Ben nodded. “It was my favorite tragedy. My favorite love story.” He leaned forward. “It’s the. It’s an  _ adult  _ story, you know? There’s a reason we teach ‘Romeo and Juliet’ in high school. ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ is different. The lovers are older, imperfect. Their  _ love  _ is imperfect. Not this fairy tale bubblegum bullshit like ‘Romeo and Juliet’. It’s not idealized, exactly, it’s realistic and beautiful and destructive. And.  _ That line.  _ ‘For vilest things become themselves in her, that the holy priests bless her when she is riggish.’ I mean, have you ever heard a  _ sexier  _ line? Cleopatra is so.  _ Incredible  _ even priests bless her when she’s horny.” Ben grinned, lopsided. Heat kindled in Hux’s cheeks. 

“I like hearing you quote Shakespeare.” 

“Yeah, well,” Ben muttered. “He quoted that line at me. He took something beautiful and made it bloody.” 

“I’ve always been partial to the sonnets myself,” Hux told Ben. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. How did it start?” Hux paused, then smirked. “ A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted with shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling, which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created; Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, and by addition me of thee defeated, by adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure, mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.”

Ben grinned and shook his head to hide the way his heart was racing. “You would.” 

“What? I like that sonnet.” 

“You would,” Ben repeated. 

Hux smirked at him. “Well, it did seem appropriate. You don’t want to be my fair youth?” 

Ben laughed, some of the tension in his shoulders lifting. “I’m not exactly fair.” 

“My dark lady then.” 

Ben put his lips to his fist to laugh. 

At least the General hadn’t taken all of Shakespeare from him. 

Or maybe Hux had just given some back. 

 

~~~

 

When Ben stepped into the station the next morning, everyone was already there. They were all crowded around Mitaka’s desk, watching something on the little TV he kept there. Good. 

Ben made his way to the evidence room instead. 

It was nothing to check out the box from the Guavian scene. 

It was nothing to slip in amongst the shelves and slide the little red USB drive into his sleeve then take the whole thing and slip away, waving cheerfully at the clerk when he passed. 

Everyone was still watching the TV when he stepped back into the room. He set the box down on his desk, pocketed the USB drive, and took a step forward to see what everyone was looking at. 

The room was very quiet. He hadn’t noticed before. 

Phasma was ghostly white, her hand clapped over her mouth. Poe looked green, like he was about to be sick. Rey and Finn both eyed the screen wearily and then the people around them, gauging their reactions, measuring the severity of the situation based upon Phasma and Poe’s faces. 

What was--?

“Mr. Bell’s lawyer had this to say.” 

Ben felt his heart plummet. He couldn’t see the screen. Fuck, he couldn’t see the screen. 

“Of course my client feels vindicated!” a slimy, familiar voice was saying. “His original conviction was a grave miscarriage of justice based on a lie. We know that now.” 

“Mr. Tarkin, can you explain the evidence that resulted in Mr. Bell’s release?” 

“Certainly. My client was convicted based upon the presence of his DNA at the last crime scene. This DNA came in the form of a great deal of hair follicles-- more than enough for DNA testing which is strange in itself. We had an independent lab test this evidence. And while that lab confirmed that the hair did in fact belong to Mr. Bell, it also confirmed the age of the sample. Hair samples can be used to determine a great deal about a person-- in Mr. Bell’s case, the hair samples present at the crime scene confirmed the very recent use of Marijuana--within the last thirty days-- however, at the time of his arrest, Mr. Bell was undergoing a court mandated program for minor drug offenses and was therefore tested merely two days before his arrest. That urinalysis confirmed Mr. Bell had not used this drug in at least thirty days, meaning the hair samples found at the scene were not recent.” 

“But if his DNA was there, how does the age of the sample exonerate him?” Jessika. Jessika was there. 

“At the time of his arrest, the PD had already executed a search warrant of my client’s home, vehicle, and place of employment, giving them plenty of opportunity to collect the samples found at the scene.” 

“You’re suggesting the police department  _ planted evidence?”  _ Jessika said incredulously. “And how do you explain the murders stopping when Bell was arrested?” 

“I’m not suggesting the police department planted evidence,” Tarkin drawled. “I’m suggesting an individual did. And I can’t account for the murderer ceasing his operations after my client’s arrest. Perhaps he chose to capitalize on the situation and fled.” 

“Who are you suggesting--”

“At the time of his arrest, my client had filed three complaints of harassment and disorderly conduct against one, Detective. Benjamin. Solo.”

“You  _ can’t be--” _

“Detective Solo was even reprimanded, as some of you should well recall, for  _ breaking my client’s arm  _ in carrying out the warrant for his arrest. My client still holds the utmost regard for the PD but, in his words, ‘They can’t all be good seeds.’ Rest assured we have brought this development to the highest authority and I will not rest until my client has seen justice for what was done to him. Thank you. No more questions.” 

Phasma muttered, “Turn it off.”

Ben didn’t hear her. 

He hurled his coffee mug at the wall and someone screamed when it shattered. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He was falling. He was  _ drowning  _ in blood and fire and smoke and burned hair and flesh and blood and screams and--

“Ben!” 

All his papers were on the floor. 

“Ben!”

His desk was screaming, screeching across the concrete ground, metal to stone. 

“Ben!” 

Someone grabbed him, grabbed his arm, and--

“Don’t fucking touch me--” Ben hurled them away and kept kicking the desk. His foot was making a dent in the metal and that was good. It hurt. That was really good. Fuck, it hurt a lot. Really good. 

“ _ Benjamin.”  _

Ben heard the voice but didn’t understand it. He was still trying to kick his desk, was half way to ripping the drawers off the track, when strong hot hands fisted in his shirt front and Ben pushed away, wildly, heart racing and blood pulsing and breath screaming out of him and his back hit the wall and he was still fighting until--

Fuck--

What--

His heels left the ground. Only the tips of his toes still brushed the floor and  _ who the fuck was lifting him-- _

The someone shook him hard, and his back hit the wall and Hux either yelled or hissed, “ _ Benjamin.”  _

Ben went very still. 

Hux looked furious. “Where. Where did you come from?” Ben muttered. 

Poe stepped forward. Fuck. Poe. Ben had pushed him. “Get your hands off him,” he hissed, low in his throat. Phasma threw her arm in front of him to keep him from getting closer. 

Ben looked around the room. Everyone was staring at him. Everyone. Rey and Finn looked terrified. 

His desk was on it's side. His computer monitor was broken and the Guavian’s evidence box was strewn across the floor. 

Ben couldn’t breathe. 

Hux set him back down. 

The second Ben put his weight on his feet, he cursed loudly and fluently. 

He may have broken his foot. 

“Come with me,” Hux said softly, hand buried in the fabric at Ben’s shoulder. He started yanking Ben along before Ben could respond. 

Poe said, “Hey!” 

Hux only said, “Phasma.” 

Phasma grabbed Poe by the back of his shirt. Hux tugged Ben out the door. 

“You  _ child,”  _ he hissed. He was yanking Ben down the stairs instead of toward the elevator. 

“Why are you here?” Ben managed to gasp. 

“I brought you  _ coffee,  _ you idiot.” 

“I can’t breathe.” 

“You’re talking. You can breathe.” 

“No, Hux,” Ben yanked out of his hand and put his own back to the wall. “I can’t. I can’t breathe. I’m gonna be sick.” Fuck, fuck, _fuck everything was fuck_ his hands his hands were shaking and he couldn’t get a breath and-- He tucked his chin to his chest, put his hands on his knees but it wasn’t working, it didn’t help and these stairs, the fucking stairwell was too small and too hot and he _couldn’t breathe--_

Hux buried his fingers in Ben’s collar and slapped him. 

Ben took a huge shuddering breath, the sound and the sudden heat under his skin making everything in his head go quiet in comparison. 

Hux was staring at him, eyes hot and angry and--

Ben sucked in another frantic, uncontrolled breath and Hux slapped him again. 

He felt his heartbeat slow. He felt his shoulders go soft against the cool wall. He felt the cold dark place in his head turn over and peer out through his eyes. 

He swallowed past the thick, viscous lump in his throat and said, “Do it again.” 

Hux complied. 

Ben caught a breath and held it. Hux released him and he sank to the floor, put his head in his hands. 

“Fuck, Hux.  _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”  _

__ “What is wrong with you?” Hux hissed. “You were  _ throwing a temper tantrum.”  _

“They let him go. They let him go and they know. Fuck they know. Fuck. Shit. Fuck--”

“Let  _ who go? What  _ do they know?” 

“Bell. Bell, they let him go and they know I set him up, they know I planted--” Ben went silent very abruptly. He swallowed hard. 

Hux said, “What.” 

“Forget it,” Ben said desperately. His foot was throbbing. His cheeks were hot. 

“You. Set him up.” 

“Hux.” 

“You  _ framed somebody?”  _

__ “He’s  _ guilty,”  _ Ben hissed. “He  _ killed those girls.  _ I  _ did what had to be done.”  _

“What did you  _ do?” _

__ Ben wet his dry mouth. Peered up the stairs and then back down to be sure they were alone. “I. I planted DNA. At the last scene.” 

“ _ Ben,”  _ Hux breathed. 

“You weren’t there, Hux. You didn’t see. Do you know what burned flesh and vomit smells like when it’s mixed together? You know what it looks like when you. When someone.” Ben gagged and felt his heart rate start to rise again. “I  _ had to stop it.  _ I had to make him stop.” He sucked in a breath and didn’t feel it. His voice was too high again when he said, “They're letting him out. Hux, they  _ can’t  _ let him go, I  _ know him,  _ he’ll do it again, he’ll do it better, we’ll never catch him again, he’ll just keep doing this, over and over and over and over and--” he couldn’t breathe. 

Hux yanked him up by the shirt front again and started leading him down the stairs. “I’m taking you home.” 

“No!” Ben said sharply, trying to tug away. “I can’t go home, I have to, I have to, I have to look at the scenes, I have to  _ find some way to stop him,  _ I have to see--” Ben gagged again. 

“No. Come on.” 

“Hux,” Ben pleaded. And he didn’t know what he was pleading for. The dark place in his head wasn’t quiet anymore, it was screaming at him and he couldn’t  _ hear anything.  _

__ Hux grabbed Ben by the chin and kissed him, rough and commanding and Ben stopped feeling like something was trying to claw its way through his ribcage. 

Hux pulled away. Ben took a shaky, quiet breath, and Hux said, “We’re going.” 

Ben couldn’t argue. He didn’t want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. I've been engaged for a month and a half and my ring came in last night FINALLY and my FIANCÉE surprised me with it and basically I'm still too giddy to focus on anything so here's more Ben fucking up his own life. 
> 
> Whatever I have to balance my happiness with fictional people's pain.
> 
> <3


	9. Consequences

Ben climbed into Hux’s car and immediately put his head between his knees. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He was panicking. He needed to calm down. Calm down. 

Easier said than done. His stomach was in knots. His chest hurt. He couldn’t get enough air. He fisted his hands in his hair and tugged, pulled some of the screaming out of his own head. 

Hux threw the car into drive and Ben felt his whole body jolt backward as he jerked out into traffic. 

“Fucking  _ temper tantrum,”  _ Hux was muttering, furious, and  _ fuck _ , he sounded really, really angry. “Like a goddamn  _ child,  _ you  _ foolish, foolish  _ man.” 

“Fuck you,” Ben hissed. Because his brain wasn’t working and he was angry too, fucking  _ livid  _ and they had  _ let him out.  _

“Control yourself,” Hux breathed back at him. 

Easy for Hux to say. He didn’t know. He couldn’t  _ possibly  _ understand. What had been done to those women. The way Bell had  _ taunted  _ Ben about it. Every time Ben had questioned him, every time he’d executed a warrant, and that monster had just smirked at him. Had just. His eyes had just  _ sparkled.  _

Hux’s car stopped with a squealing of tires and all Ben wanted was to curl up on his bed with the blankets over his head. Preferably with a bottle. Han had left him a bottle. A very expensive bottle. 

“Come on,” Hux demanded, and Ben climbed out of the car and was almost surprised when his legs still worked. “Do you have medication?”

“What?” Ben managed to gasp. What the  _ fuck-- _

“For anxiety attacks, Ben,” Hux said as if he was very dim. The elevator doors in Ben’s building finally dinged open. “You’re having an anxiety attack. Do you have medication.”

Ben ground his teeth so hard they squealed and he said, “I have pot and--” He cut himself off. Hux would never leave if he knew Ben was just going to crack open the bottle of scotch the second the door closed behind him. 

“ _ Pot,  _ Ben, really?” Hux demanded. “You’re a  _ cop.” _

“So I don’t have to worry about catching a possession charge,” Ben countered. Hux tsked, the elevator opened, and Ben fumbled with his keys. Dropped them. Cursed. 

Hux picked them up and Ben sagged against the doorframe with his knuckles pressed to his eyes. 

Things felt better in his apartment. Safer. Less exposed. “Thanks for the ride,” Ben muttered, and started to motion for Hux to leave, but Hux only chuckled at him coldly and grabbed his shirt so fiercely it tore. 

Ben sucked in a breath and felt the room narrow, felt the walls close in, felt his chest tighten and Hux kissed him. If it could even be called a kiss. He smashed their lips together so fiercely their teeth clacked. He bit Ben’s tongue. 

Ben moaned into his lips without meaning to, scotch and pot forgotten, hands falling automatically to Hux’s slim waist. Hux tore his shirt open, popped all his buttons and raked his nails across Ben’s stomach and Ben hissed because it hurt, because it wasn’t supposed to be gentle. 

That was good. 

This was--

Good. His hands were still shaking and his chest still felt hot and sticky and tight but it wasn’t fear arching through him. Hux said, “Do you want me to help you.”

“Yes,” Ben said without thinking. If Hux could make it  _ stop-- _

“I need you to choose a word.” 

“What?”

“You know what a safeword is, Ben. Pick one.” 

Ben swallowed hard. That felt strange. “I don’t. Think. ”

“If you want this, you do. Particularly since we have not discussed your boundaries and desires. I need to be sure I’m not going to. Push you in a way that makes you. Uncomfortable. With me. With our relationship. With. Pick a word. ” 

Ben ran his tongue along his lips, heart skipping in his chest. “Ten Thirty Three.” 

Hux furrowed his brows. “What? Those are numbers, that’s--”

“Police radio code,” Ben interrupted. “Ten Thirty Three. It  means ‘Emergency.’ ‘Need assistance.’”

Hux smirked at him. Said, “Alright.” 

Then, Hux said, “Go to the bedroom,” and pushed Ben so hard he almost tripped over his own feet. 

His stomach fluttered and he went, his torn shirt hanging from his chest, tie still too tight around his collar. 

Hux followed him and he was. Devastating. Ben hadn’t seen heat like that in his eyes since that first night. He hadn’t looked at Ben like that since--

Ben sucked in a lungful of air and remembered Hux’s hand across his cheek, hot and commanding, how, in the instant after he had struck Ben, Ben’s head had rung with pure, blissful  _ silence.  _

“Hux.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Hux--”

“ _ Shoes,  _ Ben.” 

Ben stepped out of his shoes and lifted his head to look at Hux. Waiting. What was he waiting for? 

“Pants.”

“What?” Ben asked dumbly because Hux had  _ seen him  _ but he’d never asked Ben to disrobe before, not like this.

Hux’s eyes flared and he said, “Take. Them. Off.”

Ben swallowed hard and slid out of his slacks. Kicked off his socks for good measure. 

Hux came forward, tsking in impatience and started untying Ben’s tie. Ben stood very still. It was hard to think of anything else when Hux was looking at him like that. And he was afraid to think too hard about what was happening, about what they’d just discussed, afraid to consider that Hux might actually want to-- that he might  _ finally  _ let Ben--

He hung Ben’s black tie over the end of the bed and Ben watched the silk drape, stared at it like it was going to flutter away on its own if he didn’t watch it hard enough and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why that  _ tie  _ looked so…  _ threatening.  _ Why it looked like a promise.

Hux hissed, “Look at me,” and Ben’s eyes snapped up, wide and uncomprehending and Hux started pushing his ruined shirt from his shoulders. 

The shirt came away in his hands and he folded it strangely, then drapped it beside the tie. 

Then he started taking off his own tie. 

Ben watched his pale fingers tugging at the red silk, so much finer than his own, and felt the world balanced in the curls of the knot. Hux was--

“Your boxers.” 

Ben thrust them away from him at the same time that he half sighed, half gasped, “ _ Hux,”  _ on a frantic explosion of air because Hux was.  _ Hux was-- _

He started to come forward as Hux  _ snapped  _ the silk from his own throat, but then Hux barked, “No,” and Ben drew up short, skin hot and flushed and too tight and he suddenly felt very exposed because Hux had draped his tie-- deliberately-- beside Ben’s and had started to unbutton his sleeves. He wasn’t going to remove his shirt. Ben  _ wasn’t  _ going to get to see-- then  _ what-- _

“Put your cheek on the mattress.” 

Ben stared at him. That would put him in a very. Vulnerable position. 

_ Did Hux want to fuck him with all his clothes on?  _

Ben hadn’t agreed to that. He turned the idea over in his mind and decided he wasn’t  _ totally  _ against it, but he had his preferences and they did not include never getting to see Hux naked.

“Hux, what are you planning?” Ben demanded. “I’m not--”

“If you’re going to throw a tantrum like a child,” Hux said very deliberately. “Then you will be punished like a child.” 

Ben felt the air leave his lungs like he’d been punched, felt too much heat race from his gut to his chest to his fingertips and toes and every thought that wasn’t  _ Hux _ drained from his head in one liquid surge and Hux said, “Bend over.” 

Ben did as he was told. His own breath was loud in his ears, to loud, and he was  _ consumed  _ with the way Hux stepped forward, moved behind him so Ben couldn’t see him anymore, even though he strained to turn his head all the way around to follow him. Hux laid his hot hand on the small of Ben’s back and Ben’s breath hitched, left silence behind without his panting to fill the air. He felt like he was poised at the top of a rollercoaster, about to plummet down the track. 

Hux slid his hand to Ben’s thigh and hummed in satisfaction. “I like this,” he said, running his fingertips over the katana Ben had tattooed there. Ben almost didn’t hear him. His head was buzzing, a white wave on anticipation rolling through his chest and the longer Hux just stood there, brushing his fingertips over Ben’s leg, the worse it got. The tighter he held himself. The louder the screaming in his head became.

All at once, Hux’s fingers left his thigh, slid to his hip bone in one smooth motion, and he curled hard fingers at Ben’s waist. Holding him in place. Ben jumped at the sudden severity in the movement and then Hux brought his other hand down on Ben’s ass.   
Ben felt all his muscles tense at the heat that flared across his skin and then release just as quickly. He exhaled, let go of the breath he’d been holding. The footboard was digging into his hips. His dick was pressing uncomfortably, _frustratingly_ into the knobbly wood. His skin was too hot. 

He waited, certain that that couldn’t be all Hux intended, but the second hit didn’t come. Hux traced his fingers over the raised marks he had left with his hand and Ben shuddered against his will, felt his whole body suddenly tremble at such gentleness when he had expected violence.

Hux said, “ _ Count.”  _

Ben sucked in a breath and said, “ _ What--”  _ But then Hux hit him again,  _ hard,  _ much harder than before, and Ben’s fingers curled in his sheets, a gasp of surprise jolting from his lips. He turned his face into the mattress, cheeks burning with a sudden flare of shame that robbed him of thought. 

Robbed him thought.

He mumbled into the sheets, “One.” 

“No,” Hux replied, voice viciously amused. “ _ In French.”  _

_ Bastard.  _ The thought surged in Ben’s head and he almost stood up because he had  _ told  _ Hux he hated French, had told him how bad his French was.

Hux said, “Benjamin.” 

Ben swallowed past the furious lump in his throat and said, “ _ Un.” _

Hux hummed in satisfaction, said, “Good boy,” and before those words could sink into the rising fog in Ben’s head, he brought his hand down again. And waited. 

Ben ground his teeth and said, “ _ Deux.”  _

Each strike took him farther from identifiable understanding, swirled his thoughts together into a liquid pulp of heat and white noise.

“ _ Trois.” _

His head started to swim. He gasped into the mattress, tugging at the sheets with his hands and Hux left fire in his skin with every slap.

When he gasped, “Five,” Hux said. “No. Start over.” 

“ _ What.”  _

Hux curled his fingers in Ben’s hair, pulled. “It’s  _ ‘cinq,’  _ Benjamin.”

Hux brought his hand down. Ben sucked in a breath and said, “ _ Un.”  _ Another strike. “ _ Duex.” _

He swallowed into the mattress and groaned when Hux slapped him again, slurred out, “Three.  _ Fuck. Fuck. Trois--” _

“Ben.”

He sucked in a breath, felt his whole body tense and-- “ _ Un.” _

He felt like ‘Ben’ was splintering apart with each new contact, cracking open like eggshells and all that was left behind was that quiet, dark place where there was no General, no Poe, no Bell, no Ben, no murder, no scotch, no-- only Hux and  _ me  _ and Hux and Ben could  _ live here,  _ it was  _ so quiet here.  _

He was trembling. 

His skin was tingling, pricking and buzzing in the most delicious pull of tight heat. 

Ben said  _ “Cinq.” _

He waited.

Hux had stopped. His hands fell again against the curve of Ben’s ass, gentle and soft and Ben actually jumped again, bucked against the bedframe because the heat of his hands  _ pressed  _ and  _ lingering  _ there made everything burn. 

“Stand up.”

By the time the words sunk through the thick, quiet fog in his head, he was already standing. He blinked at Hux  _ beautiful Hux  _ and Hux’s lips quirked in such a  _ pleased,  _ such a  _ satisfied  _ little expression and all Ben wanted to do was tilt forward, put his head on Hux’s shoulder because it was too heavy to hold, but Hux hadn’t told him he could so he wouldn’t. 

Hux reached out and lifted his red tie from the end of the bed and said, “Hold out your hands.” 

Ben didn’t even think to protest or question him. 

Hux looped the soft  _ so very soft  _ fabric around his wrists in some complicated knot before he said, “Lay down.”

So Ben laid down. 

His bed was  _ soft.  _ He felt his shoulders melting into the down comforter and Hux said, “Put your hands over your head,” before he used Ben’s tie to fasten the knots at Ben’s wrists to the rails of the head board. 

He moved back to the foot of the bed, and Ben actually moaned when he climbed onto it, put his knees on either side of Ben’s hips, and leaned forward, Ben’s shirt trailing from his hands. 

“How does that feel?” he asked, reaching up to finger the knots. “Not too tight?” 

“No. No. It’s good.” Ben’s voice was slurred. That was embarrassing. What--?

“Lift your head.” 

Hux pressed Ben’s shirt over his eyes. Looped the sleeves around his head and tied them to the side so Ben wouldn’t be laying on the knot. He asked again, “How does that feel? Can you see?”

“I wanna see you,” Ben heard himself complain. “You’re  _ so beautiful--” _

Hux grabbed his chin in a motion that was becoming achingly familiar and beginning to make him pulse with every pent up bit of lust Hux had evoked in him since the first time Ben had seen him. “No. You don’t  _ get to see  _ right now.”

Ben heard himself whimper, high pitched and disappointed and Hux said, “But I’m going to give you something else. Since you were so  _ obedient _ for me just now. Would you like that?” 

“Yes,” Ben breathed, body and wrists arching against the ties and Hux’s weight on his hips. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes. Please.”

He felt Hux’s weight shift. It was so dark. 

His skin where Hux had hit him felt hot and tight against his sheets. It was making his whole body tingle. 

Hux dragged his teeth across Ben’s chest and Ben gasped wetly, arched his back and moaned long and loud and Hux bit him before the sound had died on his lips. The cracked, broken sound he made made Hux chuckle and he did it again. And again. And again. Did it until Ben was rolling beneath him and gasping and “ _ Hux, oh, oh fuck. Hux. Hux. Huxhux--fuck, my shit, my Hux--” _

He dragged his hot, wet tongue along the marks he’d left with his teeth, gentled away the sting with wet tenderness and Ben’s moans became less and less coherent as the skin on his chest and stomach started to burn and rage and tingle like the skin on his ass. 

Hux curled feather light fingers against the head of his cock and Ben actually sobbed because he’d, fuck, he hadn’t even noticed how hard he was, how he pulsed at every touch and Hux’s sharp kisses were tracking lower, over his hips, the outside of his thighs, the  _ insides of his thighs  _ and then. 

And then.

Softly. Delicately. So gently he might have imagined it, Hux flicked his tongue against the very tip of Ben’s cock and exhaled, covered him with all his hot breath and Ben felt his hips lift and thrash, every corded muscle in his body pulled tight and a long, wet, broken moan surged from his lips. 

Hux moved back up to his stomach and Ben panted, “Wait, no,  _ please.” _

Hux stilled, the hand spread along Ben’s hip loosening. 

That was worse. 

Ben moaned again, said, “Please, Hux, please, please--”

“Please what, Ben?”

“I don’t. I can’t,” Ben huffed for breath.

“What’s your word, Ben.”

“I. Fuck. Ten thirty three, ten thirty three.” 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“ _ No. Please, fuck don’t, don’t. I want to see you. I want to see you so bad, Hux, please--” _

He felt Hux’s weight shift and Hux laid his chest against Ben’s. 

His bare chest. 

His. 

Bare.

Ben sobbed, loud and desperate and his whole body pulsed with the feel of Hux’s skin against his, with the knowledge that Hux had bared himself but Ben couldn’t see. His headboard creaked when he strained against the ties, frantic to feel Hux’s skin in his hands.

“Please,  _ please,  _ Hux, take it off, I want to see you,  _ please--” _

Hux snapped close to his ear, “No. After the  _ scene  _ you caused you don’t  _ deserve _ that.”

Ben made a wordless sound and Hux said, “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it.”

“I. I don’t. I don’t deserve to see you. Fuck, Hux, I want to so  _ bad.” _

“You’re lucky I’ve given you this,” Hux told him and bit his earlobe for emphasis. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes. Thank you. Hux. My Hux. You’re. So.”

He shifted again, paused to bite Ben’s nipple harder than anyone had ever bit him there and then moved lower, over abs and hips and thighs and Ben wasn’t making sense anymore, every skin cell was on fire, burning, tingling and pulsing with bright, heady pain and he realized the strange broken sound he was making was a laugh. 

It only took one hot, long press of tight lips over fine skin. Hux curled his lips around Ben’s cock, dipped his head one time, from head to root, took Ben’s whole length into his mouth and Ben felt all the heat in his skin surge to his cock, wash over him like a tidal wave. “ _ Hux.” _

He’d fantasized about this. How many nights had he lulled himself to sleep wondering what Hux would be like like this? If he would be neat and efficient, or wet and long and languorous, if he even did this at all. 

He pulled away immediately, closed his lips and moved instead to bite Ben on the thigh again and Ben hissed because it had  _ hurt  _ but then that rush and--  

Hux dragged his tongue over the place he’d bit. He raked his nails over Ben’s chest, aggravating old stings. He sank his teeth into the skin at Ben’s waist so hard Ben was sure he’d drawn blood. He closed his mouth over the head of Ben’s cock and lingered, looped his tongue in tender little circles and then sank onto him again and Ben came. Hux was better than he could have possibly imagined. All of this was more than he could have ever imagined and the feel of it crested over him, drowned him in heat that just  _ kept coming. _ His muscles ached and tensed. His arms pulled against the ties and something in his headboard cracked. He was screaming Hux’s name and it sounded like a plea.

He kept shouting and gasping and thrashing even when his dick stopped pulsing with come, the tremors wracking his body lingering long beyond the practical nature of his orgasm. Hux pulled back and watched him, fingers twirling idly at the space between Ben’s leg and his cock. 

He stayed there until Ben fell still and quiet. He stayed there until Ben’s heart rate fell. Until his arms and legs sagged against the sheets.

Ben felt him shift, twist for something behind him, and a moment later, or maybe it was longer, Hux climbed forward and untied Ben’s wrists. 

His arms dropped to the mattress like they were weighted. He didn’t try to lift them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to.

Hux pushed the blindfold aside and Ben tried to be disappointed to see he had put his shirt back on, but it was hard to really  _ be  _ anything.

Hux smirked. “Feel better?”

Ben felt his eyes roll and he grinned and didn’t recognize his own voice when he said, “You’re amazing.” 

Hux laughed, a startled little sound, and rolled forward to curl against Ben’s side. Ben nuzzled against his hair. Mostly because rolling his head to the side was the only movement he could handle.

Hux smelled good. 

Expensive. 

He always smelled expensive. Felt it too, with his too soft shirts that never wrinkled and his smooth pale skin and silky hair. Ben inhaled so deeply his head swam with the musky, masculine scent of him. Hux was sweating too. Just a little. Just enough that Ben could smell him under the hair product and soap and lightest touch of that deliciously subtle cologne and it all melded together into something unmistakably  _ Hux. _

“You’re.” Hux started to say, then stopped himself. He didn’t speak. Ben didn’t need him to.

“When do I get to make you come?” Ben asked, all the tingly heat roiling across his skin making him lazy and blunt. “It’s not fair if I get all the orgasms.” 

Hux chuckled. “You think this isn’t good for me?”

“Mmm,” Ben replied nonsensically. 

“It is.”

“Still.”

“We’re not there yet,” Hux said simply. “You don’t really know me yet. The first time we. I want you to know me.”

“I do know you,” Ben protested. “Well enough to know I--” He cut himself off. Regained control of his tongue enough to know he didn’t want to finish that thought. At least not now. “Well enough.”

Hux said, “No. Not yet.” He curled up and kissed Ben on the nose.

And Ben shuddered because  _ Not yet.  _

It didn’t sound like a promise.

It sounded like a threat.

 

~~~  
  
“You need to wake up,” Hux said gently. “I have to go into work.”

“No,” Ben moaned, locking his arms around Hux’s chest. “Don’t go. Can’t you just. Aren’t you the boss? Stay with me.” 

“Ben,” Hux sighed. “Come on, your phone has been vibrating for an hour now, and Phasma just texted me asking me where you are.”

Ben groaned into Hux’s shoulder. The room was dark. It smelled like sweat and sex and Hux, and Ben never wanted to move from the warm nest of sheets. Ben’s chest felt tight just thinking about returning to work. 

Hux sat up, cracked his neck. Ben rolled onto his back and sighed before crawling to the end of the bed and reaching for his slacks. 

He had eleven missed calls. Literally everyone had texted him. Poe, Finn, and Rey with some variation of  _ Are you alright? _

From Luke he got:  _ I need to speak to you right now, Ben. This is urgent. _

From Leia:  _ Call me the instant you get this. we need to talk I need to know you’re ok _

From Han:  _ ben pick up your fucking phone your mother is worried sick what the fuck is wrong with you _

From Phasma:  _ You need to get back to the station right now!!! Your job is on the line. I’m not exaggerating pick up your motherfucking phone.  _

Ben took a shaky breath and Hux’s hand was on his shoulder instantly. Ben exhaled. 

“What is it?” 

“I have to go back to work. Phas says.” He couldn’t say it so he held up the phone instead. 

“Get dressed. I’ll take you back.” 

Ben ran a hand over his face and climbed out of bed. His muscles felt weak and he tottered on his feet. The foot he had used to destroy his desk throbbed twice and Ben winced because he’d forgotten about it during--

For the first time, he looked down at his chest and hissed in surprise. 

“What?” 

“Fuck, Hux, I look like a goddamn assault victim.” 

Hux snickered and Ben fingered one of the purpling bruises just below his right pectoral. It was tender and hot and made him feel too warm when he looked at it. Hux had covered his whole chest and stomach in them, in varying shades of red and purple-- and he really had broken the skin down by Ben’s hip.

Ben shook his head, an odd surge of. Embarrassment flaring in his stomach. He’d have to consider that later. Now he had to get back to work. 

Hux was repositioning his tie-- it looked no worse for wear. Ben’s however, was wrinkled all to hell and Hux picked it up with a scowl before draping it over the footboard and disappearing into Ben’s closet. He emerged a moment later with another black shirt and tie and handed the first to Ben. Ben felt strange, buttoning all those bruises and bitemarks behind the black cotton. A little dirty. The idea that only this thin slip of fabric lay between the evidence of the filthiest orgasm Ben had ever had and the rest of world was a little. Intoxicating. “I guess you did destroy my shirt,” he muttered belatedly as he clipped the last two buttons into place. 

Hux chuckled and lifted his hands to loop the tie around Ben’s neck. “I’ll buy you a new one.” Ben stared at the elegant, delicate plans of his face as he carefully tied the knot. At his bright eyes that always sparkled and his full lips that scowled so prettily and so often, it was like a punch to the gut when he actually smiled. At the hair falling across his forehead, the only hint that Hux had been doing something more strenuous than sipping coffee at Ben’s kitchen table. At the devastatingly sexy ginger shadow dusting his chin and cheeks that he’d started growing every few days just for Ben. Just because Ben had told him how much he loved it. 

Ben’s face was smooth now. Because, conversely, Hux prefered him that way. When was the last time Ben had gone more than a day without shaving? He hadn’t realized. Hux had only mentioned it once, in passing. Had kissed a freshly shaven cheek and said, “I like you like this.” And Ben hadn’t skipped his morning shave since.

Hux tugged Ben’s tie into place. Smoothed the knot out. 

Ben curled his forearm around the small of Hux’s back and kissed him, open mouthed and fierce and said finally, softly, against his lips, “Thank you. I don’t know where I’d be right now without-- I love you.” 

Hux jerked away from him, stared at him with his eyes wide and his brows furrowed like Ben had just said something truly  _ obscene  _ and before Ben could feel the surge of  _ terrible, regretful fear  _ building in his chest, Hux pushed him away with both palms flat on Ben’s chest so Ben could feel all the prickly heat from the bruises. “Hux--”

Hux shook his head, two sharp little jerks, and said, “You. I need. You need to go back to work.” 

He turned on his heel and left Ben standing there, staring at his back as he ran from the room. 

 

~~~

 

He waited for Ben in the living room. When Ben emerged a few moments later, he immediately opened the door and crossed to the elevator. It was like that all the way to the car. He always waited two steps ahead. Kept distance between them. 

He actually leaned away from Ben when Ben sat down in the passenger seat. “Hux--”

Hux shook his head, a puff of air the only indication that Ben’s words had had any effect on him at all. 

They drove in complete silence. When Hux stopped in front of the station, Ben, again, said, “Hux, I--”

“Get out of my car.” 

“ _ What?” _

The locks clicked open. Hux wouldn’t look at him. 

Ben was horrified to find tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His chest hurt. 

He got out of the car. 

Hux peeled away, rounded a corner, and was gone. 

 

~~~

 

Every head in the room turned to look at him when he stepped into the office. Someone had cleaned up his desk. 

“Jesus  _ fuck,  _ Ben!” Phasma broke the silence and practically rushed him. “Are you alright? We’ve been trying to--”

“I know, Phas, I’m sorry,” Ben said softly. It was hard to be concerned with Phasma when Hux was. What? Had they. Were they going to  _ break up?  _ That would be fucking  _ stupid _ and it wasn’t like it was inappropriate to confess love after a month and half, and it wasn’t like he and Hux hadn’t been  _ more intimate  _ than Ben had ever been with anybody ever before and really what the fuck was his problem, he couldn’t just  _ do  _ what he’d done to Ben and then. And then  _ run away. _

Phasma slapped Ben on the chest,  jolting him from his thoughts and he hissed and curled forward, swatting her hand away as he did.

Phasma’s eyes narrowed. “Why did that hurt--”

“It’s nothing. What’s so fucking urgent?”

Phasma brought him back to the present with the only thing that could possibly be worse than what Ben had already been thinking about. “Ben. IA is here.” 

“ _ What?”  _

“They’ve been here all morning. We’ve been  _ trying to get a hold of you _ . They want to interview you and they’ve been collecting everything we have on Bell. They’ve been in the Chief’s office all morning.”

“That fast?” Ben asked weakly. 

Phasma shook her head. “Tarkin made a splash. Bell is a fucking scum lord and the public think he’s guilty and if he  _ gets off,  _ he’s only out on bail now, he’ll get a new trial, but if we don’t have anything on him without the DNA link, fuck, Ben, they’re gonna have to drop the charges.”

Ben shook his head. “He’s a  _ monster.”  _

“I know, Ben. But. The DNA.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Is it true?” 

“Phasma, how could you ask me that.”

“Is it  _ true,  _ Ben?” 

Ben swallowed. Shook his head. 

Phasma actually sighed in relief. “If there’s nothing to find, there’s nothing to find. Go. Chief said to send you in the second we saw you.” 

Ben went. 

Luke sighed when Ben knocked on the door. Ben stepped inside and put his hands behind his back. “You. Wanted to see me. Chief. Sir.” 

Luke’s standard calm and serenity was cracked. His face was blank but Ben could see the pads of his fingers, white against the top of his desk. “Detective Solo,” He said, voice thick, playing at calm. “This is Agent Lee and Agent Pinkerton. They’re with Internal Affairs.” 

Ben kept his voice as steady as he could when he said, “Internal Affairs, sir?”

Agent Lee, a middle aged asian woman with a severe bun and cat eyed glasses, stood. She didn’t hold out her hand. “Detective Solo, you know why we’re here.”

Ben ground his teeth and lied. “No.” 

“You’ve been accused of planting evidence at a crime scene. This is a very serious accusation. Agent Pinkerton and I are here to investigate Bell and Tarkin’s claims. We are taking these accusations. Very. Seriously,” she said again. “If there is any validity to these accusations, believe me, we will find out.” 

Ben felt his hands shaking. He said, “Yes, ma’am.” 

“You will be placed on administrative leave until the conclusion of our investigation,” Pinkerton said from his seat. He was blond, beefy, and disconcertingly casual. 

“ _ What?”  _

“Ben--” Luke began. 

“ _ You can’t do that.” _

“Lower your voice, Detective Solo,” Lee said. 

“ _ We’re in the middle of an investigation. The General is--”  _

“You’re team can handle it. This is not up for discussion, Solo. You will be placed on paid administrative leave until the conclusion of our investigation. We will begin by questioning you. Leave your weapon, and your badge, and come with us.” 

“No,  _ fuck that--”  _ Ben began.

Luke yelled, “Ben!” 

And Ben went very still because Luke had never raised his voice once in Ben’s entire life. Not once. 

Luke sighed. “I have the utmost faith that Tarkin’s claims are complete nonsense,” he said pointedly. “If you cooperate with Agent Lee and Agent Pinkerton we can have you back in the field in a couple weeks. Please. Answer their questions.” 

Ben swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” 

Ben didn’t look at anyone as he unclipped his service weapon from his hip and laid it on Luke’s desk. His badge followed. 

Then they led him to the interrogation room. 

Pinkerton lounged in the corner eating popcorn from a bag he’d gotten from the vending machine. Lee flipped through a file, her back straight and rigid, and Ben drawled, “Are you two really about to good cop/bad cop me? You realize I’m the best fucking interrogator on the force.” 

“Your record is impressive,” Lee admitted, turning toward him. “The average clearance rate for homicides in the US is--”

“About sixty four percent,” Ben said tiredly. “I know.” 

“This department was hovering around that rate at the time of your promotion to detective at which point it rose by five percent. You specifically have about an eighty percent clearance rate and the overwhelming majority of those identifications end with a conviction which is more than can be said for the rest of your department and far more than can be said for other departments nationwide with statistical similarities.”

Ben shrugged. “Yeah. I know. Thanks?” 

“Very  _ impressive,  _ Detective Solo,” Pinkerton said around a mouth full of popcorn. “Almost too impressive.” 

Ben’s face twisted. “Fuck are you suggesting?”

“We have confirmed the findings in the Bell case. The probability that the DNA evidence used to convict Bell was planted is very high. And as you were the lead detective on that case, with a personal vendetta against Mr. Bell…” Lee trailed off. “One wonders if there are other cases we should be investigating.” 

“ _ No,”  _ Ben said in disgust. “I  _ didn’t plant anything.  _ I’m a good detective, I’m good at my  _ job.” _

“Suspiciously so,” Pinkerton quipped. 

Ben clamped his mouth shut and resisted the urge to scream.

The questioned him for four hours. Made him relive every detail of the Bell case. Started pulling at threads in other cases. Four hours. 

And when Ben stumbled home, it was for good. Administrative leave. The General was still out there and Ben was on  _ administrative leave.  _

He pulled his phone from his pocket in the taxi and texted Hux.  _ Cn we please talk please tell me what your thinking.  _

And when, fifteen minutes later, he had no response, he added,  _ fuck please do’t go quiet on my now I cant handle it please fucking talk to me  _ and sent it without thinking too hard about how crazy and desperate he sounded. 

Hux didn’t reply. 

Ben fell into his apartment and his eyes were drawn magnetically to the scotch on his counter. Waiting for him. Giftwrapped, complete with bow. 

He uncorked it and upended the bottle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, Ajax is on vacation and for the FIRST TIME EVER I have posted a scene (AND A SMUTTY SCENE) without her editing/confirming it's not shitty first. 
> 
> This is like, kind of a big deal for me you guys. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. <3


	10. General

_ Thud thud thud _

Ben cracked an eye and stared at his door, shaking in the frame. 

“Ben! Ben, open up, come on!” Phasma yelled. 

Ben closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he heard Poe and Finn both shouting, “Ben, open the door! I know you’re in there!”

Ben closed his eyes.The door frame was wiggling but he didn’t think it was from the incessant knocking.

“Benjamin. Benjamin, please. At least let me know you’re alive in there! Ben! Ben!” 

Ben slurred, “Go away,” so Leia would know he wasn’t dead. 

Silence. 

He was alone. 

He tilted over on his kitchen floor and curled up with the handle of whiskey clutched to his chest. He was going to run out soon. Han’s empty bottle of scotch was lying near his foot; he’d had to fish the handle out of the wall safe where he kept his passport and a back up gun. Poe hadn’t thought to look there. He upended the bottle again and kicked his phone away from where it had also fallen by his foot. It was dead anyway. 

Silence. 

Someone knocked. 

Ben ignored it. 

What time was it?

Ben cracked an eyelid again and stared at his door. Why wouldn’t they all just go away? Why couldn’t they just  _ leave him alone?  _ And who was it this time? Everyone had already been by hadn’t they?

There was a thud and a splintering sound and Ben’s eyes snapped open just in time to see his door bow out from the hinges and then crack at the lock. 

Hux stared at him from the broken doorway, eyes sharp and cold, and Ben said, “Huuuuuuux!” Then, “You. Fuck you. You. Fuck. You,” when he remembered their last interaction. 

Hux stared down at him, hands in his pockets. His eyes drifted to the handle of whiskey, and Ben tugged it closer protectively. “You broke my door.” Ben snickered. “Strong. You’re. Really strong. That’s so hot.” Ben blinked sleepily and muttered, “I feel better now.” 

Hux silently turned and disappeared into the bathroom. Ben’s eyes rolled in his head and he drank some more.  

When he opened his eyes again, Hux was staring at him. With his arms crossed. 

Ben tried to push his hair out of his eyes and giggled, “Fuck, you look angry. Angry Hux. Hux. My. You. Fuck you. You ran away. My.” He sighed, high pitched and sad ,and lifted the bottle to his lips. 

Hux snapped into motion, yanked it from his hands and started to pour it down the kitchen sink. 

“No!” Ben drawled, falling onto his stomach and reaching for the bottle. “Fuck, give it, give it back, give it back.” 

Hux still hadn’t said anything. He jerked his leg and Ben realized he was tugging Hux’s pants.

He should probably stand up. 

Hux set the empty bottle down on the counter just as Ben managed to get fully upright and Ben shouted, “You  _ bastard _ ,” before he sent the empty bottle skittering across the counter when he reached for it. 

Hux walked away from him without saying anything, went back to the bathroom. 

“Hey! Hey, get back here! You fuck, you, give it back--” The room tilted. Ben heard a thud. 

When had he sat back down?

Hux emerged from the bathroom walking fast and twisted his hand in Ben’s shirt. Before Ben could jerk away, Hux was dragging him bodily out of the kitchen. Ben was half on his knees, half being  _ carried  _ by Hux and,  _ fuck,  _ he was  _ so strong-- _ “ _ Let go--” _

Hux released his shirt, buried one hand in Ben’s hair at the base of his head, and then his other hand was dragging at the corner of Ben’s lips and Ben was trying to swat his hands away until Hux’s fingers scraped at the back of his throat and all the whiskey burning in his gut came racing to the surface. 

Hux yanked his hand away, shoved Ben’s face into the toilet and Ben emptied his stomach. 

He was panting and furious and turned his head to say, “Get the  _ fuck off me--”  _

But then Hux shoved his hand in Ben’s mouth again and Ben had to stop talking to puke.

He was feeling considerably more clear headed when he lifted his head the second time. This was an unwelcome development. When his head cleared he could see all the bullshit he’d been avoiding piling into neat little lines he couldn’t ignore anymore. He started to fight, started to shove Hux away and before he could get a fucking grip, Hux had hauled him to his feet, twisted his hand in Ben’s shirt again and shoved him back. 

Ben stumbled, lashed out to grip the shower curtain-- it tore-- and Hux  _ expertly  _ knocked his feet out from under him. 

Hux plunged him into the bathtub and Ben opened his mouth to shout and sucked down a lungful of ice cold water. The tub was full. 

It took his breath away, made him gasp and choke and thrash and Hux pulled him up long enough for him to suck in a single breath, then shoved his head under again and Ben kept kicking because Hux was _clearly_ trying to kill him and what the fuck was that about?   
Hux yanked him and shoved him under three more times before he finally let Ben go. Ben jerked up, coughing and gasping and Hux just glared until Ben finally got quiet and, shivering, stared at the other man with his teeth chattering. 

Hux looked livid. “Phasma called me in a  _ panic.  _ No one had seen or heard from you in  _ three days.” _

“You left,” Ben chattered. “I needed you and you  _ left me all alone.”  _

Hux’s lip curled. “You’re exaggerating.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“This is what you’re going to do? The second something doesn’t. Go your way. Go find some scotch and drink yourself stupid.” 

“Worked before,” Ben said.

“You  _ idiot.”  _

“You’re a mean bastard, Hux.” 

“Had you not already realized that or did you just  _ forget?”  _ Hux demanded. 

Ben shook his head and hugged his own shoulders. It was cold. It was so cold. “Why’d you do that?”

“Ben.”

“You didn’t have to say it back, you know. I just wanted you to know. You don’t have to, to, to, fuck, Hux, why’d you do that?” 

Hux’s face was white. “You’re drunk.” 

“Answer me.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ben!” Hux shouted, and Ben realized it was literally the only time he’d ever seen Hux lose his iron grip on the world, on whatever situation he found himself in.

“Fuck,  _ thank you _ woulda been better than what you did, you bastard.”

Ben rolled over and started to crawl out of the tub. Hux pushed him back in. “Stay.” 

“I’m not your fucking  _ dog,”  _ Ben snapped. “You can’t make me  _ stay.”  _ He didn’t try to roll out again though. Fuck, it was cold. He felt like he could see straight for the first time in days. “You can’t make me do anything,” he grumbled. 

Hux only glared at him and bit the inside of his lip so hard Ben could see where it dimpled in. “No, you’ll clearly do whatever the fuck you want regardless of what it means for your health or safety and the peace of mind of those around you.” 

“Careful,” Ben drawled. “It almost sounds like you care about me.” 

Hux made a furious sound and said, “Of  _ course--”  _ before cutting himself off and glaring down at Ben, shock pulling at the corners of his eyes. Ben tilted his head for a better view, got to watch all the color drain from Hux’s face, got to watch his lips go thin and his eyes narrow. 

Ben said softly, “It’s not like you didn’t know.” He sighed and shifted in the tub, tried to hug his arms tighter and pull his knees out of the water. “You always know what I’m thinking.”  

“I’m.” Hux swallowed hard. Crossed his arms and stared at a spot above Ben’s head. Then he turned his back and said very softly, “Sorry.”

Ben pushed his wet hair off his face and didn’t say anything. Didn’t think he should. 

The silence was heavy and long. Ben finally said, “Can I get out of the tub now?” 

Hux nodded without turning around and Ben rolled, sopping wet in all his clothes, out of the tub and onto the floor. He lay on the tiles and shivered because the rolling motion had made the room start to spin again and he had to wait for it to stop. Hux pulled a towel out of the linen closet and said softly, “Sit up.” 

Ben sat up, put his head in his hands. Hux draped the towel over his wet shoulders. Very hesitantly, and with little halting jerks, he unstuck a curl from Ben’s cheek and tucked it behind his ear. 

“Come on.” 

So Ben followed him.

 

~~~

 

Ben put his head in his hands and tried to block out the sunlight filtering in through the windshield. “Where are we going?” he asked again. 

“To the shooting range,” Hux finally answered. 

Ben moaned and sank further into the seat. “You’re a  _ monster.” _

“And you deserve it.”

Ben moaned again because Hux was right. But still. It was too fucking bright out. His head hurt. Fuck, did his head hurt. 

Hux parked his ridiculous car (Ben hadn’t even bothered taking note of what it was this time. Something red and shaped like a mid-life crisis.) and had to actually tug Ben’s door open. “Hux, come on,” Ben pleaded. “Can’t we just go get fucking milkshakes or something?”

“Get out of the fucking car, Ben. You did that to yourself. You can deal with it.” 

“But a  _ shooting range?”  _

“You’ll wear earmuffs.” 

“Goddamn it.” Ben got out the car. 

The earmuffs didn’t help. 

But the shooting did. Ben supposed he wasn’t surprised. Hux always seemed to know exactly what he needed. And with all the fucking bullshit in his career spiraling out of his hands a fucking gun in his fist was exactly the kind of heavy, heady power he needed to feel. 

He emptied the clip a little too quickly and missed his mark more than he usually would. Still. It wasn’t an unimpressive spread. He looked over at Hux prepared to brag and felt all his breath leave his chest.

Hux was. 

Well, he was Hux. 

Perfect form. Perfect body lined up exactly as it should be, perfect hair slicked from his perfect face, and Ben had never seen a man who looked so incredibly  _ perfect  _ with a gun in his hands. Hux emptied his clip and Ben would admit it; he wasn’t fucking ashamed. He was even more turned on than he had been the first time he’d seen Hux in those  _ jeans.  _ Fucking hell, the man was a goddamn masterpiece, and. Sniper. Ex sniper. 

It was a surprise, in a way. Hux was so slight and held himself so gracefully in his pretty tailored suits, Ben forgot sometimes that he was fucking  _ scary.  _ That he knew his way around a gun. That was he was strong enough to break a door down and lift Ben off his feet and shove him in a bathtub and hold him under. 

Hux’s target came flying forward and Ben gapped at the  _ tiny  _ hole he had created dead center of the paper. Hux examined it, nodded in satisfaction, then turned to look at Ben. When his eyes fell on Ben’s target, he frowned, and Ben felt a flush crawl up his chest. 

“Fuck you, I’m hung over,” he muttered, lifting the noise deadening cup off one of his ears. “And we’re not all ex-snipers,” he added under his breath. 

He reset the target, reloaded the gun, and lifted it to aim. 

He went very still when Hux came up behind him, put his chin on Ben’s shoulder, and lifted Ben’s elbow with his palm. It was silent under the earmuffs, but Hux didn’t need to speak. He made a minor adjustment to Ben’s wrist and Ben felt a strange twist of both affection and annoyance-- because he was a pretty decent shot all things considered and didn’t need  _ help _ , but Hux’s gentle direction made his chest feel warm. 

He squeezed the trigger. 

This time when he set his gun down, the target looked a lot neater. He turned and grinned at Hux and Hux smiled back. 

For a time, they returned to their own targets. 

It was therapeutic. Especially when Ben started gleefully picturing Anthony Bell’s face dead center of his target. Then it became  _ very  _ fucking therapeutic. 

Hux was moving more slowly than Ben was. When Ben ran out of bullets, he turned his head and watched, leaned against the barricade and just enjoyed the view. 

Hux had stayed with him all night. Ben had slept for most of that time, but still. Hux was there. He was there when Ben woke up in the afternoon, groggy and only half sure that the bathtub debacle hadn’t been a dream. He was there when Ben stumbled into the shower and rinsed three days of sweat and whiskey out of his pores. He made Ben stand in front of the stove and make them both eggs, the bastard. Had watched with his arms crossed until Ben handed him a plate and could finally sit down and put his head on the table. 

He was the least gentle nursemaid Ben had ever had. 

He’d felt a wave of shame when he finally turned his phone back on. The barrage of missed calls and unopened texts was truly disconcerting-- going off the grid was not something Ben had ever considered and that was probably a good thing because none of them would ever let him. He’d shot off the same text to everyone--  _ I’m fine. I’m sorry. I’m with Hux.  _ \-- and turned the phone off again.

He’d fucked up. 

He’d fucked up big. 

Hux squeezed off his last few rounds and Ben felt a halfhearted smile tug his lips when Hux turned to look at him. If the rest of his life had to fall to shit at least he still had this. 

He still had Hux. 

 

~~~

 

Han was waiting for him when he got back to his apartment, lounging on the couch with half Ben’s pantry spread out on the coffee table. 

Hux raised a brow. “Mr. Solo.” 

“Hey, kid!” Han drawled. “Army-something, right? Fuck you say your name was?” 

“Armitage,” Hux replied dryly. “But just ‘Hux’ will do.” 

“What are you doing here?” Ben asked. 

“Came to  _ see you,”  _ Han said pointedly. “Fuck happened to your door? Anyone could just walk in.” 

“Hux broke it,” Ben replied, rolling his eyes and trying not to let it show how much the knowledge that Hux had literally broken down his door without breaking a sweat or even bruising his shoulder made Ben want to bend down and lick Hux’s shiny dress shoes. Something told him Hux would like that. 

“He  _ broke your door?”  _ Han said incredulously, looking past Ben at Hux’s back as the other man started making himself a cup of coffee. 

Hux shrugged without turning around and said, “I don’t have a key. Had to get in somehow.” 

Han blinked stupidly at Hux before looking back at Ben and lowering his voice. “Hey. So. You have that.  _ Thing.  _ I asked you to pick up?” 

“Yeah.” Ben rolled his eyes and retrieved the USB from the floor by his dresser where it had fallen when he’d emptied his pockets three days ago and half a bottle of scotch deep. When he emerged from his bedroom, Hux and Han were staring at each other silently from opposite ends of the room, Hux with his hands curled around a mug and one foot supporting his weight against the cabinet, and Han with his elbows on his knees and his crooked grin at it’s crookedest-- and therefore most dangerous. 

Ben said loudly, “Quit being fucking weird. My head hurts too much for this bullshit.” 

“And whose fault is that?” Hux asked him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Here, Dad, your stupid drive. You wanna get out of here now?” 

“What, you don’t want me to stay for coffee?” Han asked, glaring at Hux. 

“Some other time,” Ben snapped. 

Han shrugged. “Whatever. Thanks, kid.” He waved the drive before pocketing it. “I owe you one.” 

“You know what you owe me,” Ben said under his breath. “See that I get it.” 

“Whodya think I am kid? You know I’m good for it.” 

“Sure. See ya later, Dad.” 

“See ya, Benny.” Han paused and saluted. “Hux,” he half taunted, drawing out the syblant end of Hux’s name like the word tasted bad. 

When the door closed (sort of) Hux said, “Where’d you get the drive, Ben?” 

“My mom,” Ben said off handedly. 

“You’re father is paying you for a USB drive from your mother?” 

“He’s not--” Ben said sharply before turning fully to face Hux. “What are you--?” But Hux just stared at him and Ben laughed in bitter disbelief. “How’d you know?” 

“I wasn’t sure. You just confirmed it. So where did it come from?” 

Ben shifted on his feet. “The. The Guavian scene. Dad’s. Into some shit. Sometimes. I mean, not anymore, but. In the past. He’s. I’ve helped him out.” 

“Helped him out  _ how?”  _

What the fuck did it matter? He’d already told Hux about planting the hair. It wasn’t like this was  _ worse  _ than that. “Making evidence disappear.” 

“ _ Ben.”  _

“Nothing major. Just. Keeping my dad outta trouble, is all. And occasionally, if he pays me enough, his friends.” 

Hux shook his head, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You’ve done this before?” 

“No. Not often. Like. Three, maybe four times. I told him I wasn’t doing it anymore.” 

Hux shook his head like he didn’t know what to say. Then, finally, “Is there any way they can find this? Those agents from IA?” 

“No. No way. No one gives a fuck about that drive. It’s a Guavian thing, not a General thing, so we hadn’t even gotten to cracking the encryption yet. And little stuff like that, it gets misplaced all the time.” 

“Well. There’s that at least.” Hux paused, studied Ben carefully and then said, “But. Ben. You know. If. If you  _ need money--”  _

_ “No.”  _

“I know. I was just. Just saying--”

“No.”

“Alright.” 

“I don’t. Anyway. Dad just taught me if you gotta break the law, never do it for free. Even if it’s family asking. And especially if it’s him.” 

Hux nodded. “Never again?” 

“Never again.”

“Good.” 

Ben sighed and fell onto his couch just as Hux’s phone rang. Hux brought it to his ear, and Ben watched his face change, watched him go from mild disapproval aimed at Ben to… sparkling contempt. Ben sat up a little straighter. Hux’s eyes were dark and angry. Viscious. But he was trying to hide it, trying to keep his face even and smooth and so Ben only noticed it in the corners of his eyes and the wrinkles between his eyebrows. 

“Slow down, Phasma. Yes. What? I. Of course. Thanks for calling. Bye.” 

“What--?”

“Turn on your TV,” Hux said sharply, pocketing his phone. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Channel Seven.” 

Bewildered, Ben flipped to the local news. There was a commercial playing. Hux paced impatiently and when the logo finally popped up on the screen, he sank down next to Ben, leaning forward. 

“Welcome back to Channel Seven News. I’m Lauren Greeling. If you’re just joining us, we’re about to go live with local PD chief, Luke Skywalker. Chief Skywalker called an emergency press conference today when word of yet another attack by the serial killer local PD has dubbed ‘The General’ broke early this morning. If you’ve been following with us, you know details are scarce, however, we have just received word from an anonymous source that last night The General carried out  _ three separate attacks _ all within an eight mile radius for a total of three new murders, bringing the staggering death toll to a stunning  _ nineteen victims--”  _

“Holy shit,” Ben breathed. 

“Including local politician Blake Johnson. Johnson was found dead in his home last week, stumping local authorities who are trying to determine  _ how  _ the madman gained access to his highly secured home. The Police Department has still not identified the most recent three victims, or indicated, what, if any leads this latest tragedy has generated.” 

Ben snorted under his breath. If this was a General murder, the death of the victims would be anything but  _ tragic.  _ Hux turned to look at him, but Ben was too absorbed in what the reporter was saying to think much of it. 

“Oh,” she was saying. “I. We’ve just received word from our source-- this is unconfirmed, but it appears that, aside from the standard star markings peculiar to The General these three victims have. Have had  _ words  _ carved. Carved into their skin.” Greeling looked a little sick. “No word yet as to what message The General left behind.” She paused, took a deep breath and said, “We go now to police chief, Luke Skywalker.” 

Ben turned to look at Hux. “ _ Words?”  _

“She said it was a rumor.” 

“Did Phasma say anything about--?”

“No.”

On the TV, Luke was looking suave but a little gray. Ben felt something pull at his chest. 

Luke was his boss. But he was also Ben’s uncle. Ben’s suspension was probably harder on him than anyone else aside from Ben. 

“Chief Skywalker!” someone was yelling. “How can you reassure the people of this city that you’re keeping them safe when the PD has let this psychopath murder  _ nineteen  _ people with no witnesses and no leads?” 

“I assure you, the average citizen is at no risk of being targeted by The General,” Luke said firmly. “We are following several leads and working on a profile--”

“The average citizen? So he hasn’t been killing the average citizen?”

“Uh. We believe the General has a very stringent pattern that he sticks to when choosing his victims. We--”

“What is that pattern, Cheif Skywalker?”

“Please,” Luke said calmly, “hold your questions until the end--”

“Can you confirm that the most recent victims had words carved into their skin?”

Luke went white. “I’m not at liberty--”

“How does the PD plan to continue this investigation without Ben Solo?” 

Hux huffed in what Ben was surprised to realize was amusement. “Glad you think that’s funny,” he muttered.

“It is our intention,” Luke said loudly, grabbing onto a question he could actually answer. “That Detective Solo returns to the field as quickly as possible. It is my personal belief that Detective Solo will be fully cleared of all charges and back on the job very soon. In the meantime, we will continue this investigation with all the considerable and talented resources at our disposal. Detective Phasma has taken lead on this case in Detective Solo’s absence and of course, her record speaks for itself.”

“Have you identified the most recent victims, Chief?” 

“We have, however, we are withholding their identities pending family notification.”

Ben turned to look at Hux as Luke started giving basic non-answer to the questions these vultures had been throwing at him since the very first General kill. “Words? Words?” he mused. 

Hux said, “They haven’t confirmed...” 

Ben nodded and pulled out his phone. 

“Rey.” 

“ _ Ben.  _ Christ, it’s good to hear from you, everyone’s been worried sick about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I fucked up,” Ben said. “Listen. Rey. We’re partners, right?” 

“I can’t give you info, Ben, you know I can’t.” 

“Come on, Rey,” Ben pleaded. “You know I can get it. I can call Phasma, Poe, fuck, even Finn. But I called  _ you  _ cause you’re my partner and partners help each other out, alright?” 

Rey groaned into her phone. “What do you want to know?”

Ben grinned at Hux. Hux lifted a brow in response. “They’re saying he carved words into their skin. Is it true?” 

He heard Rey swallow. “Yeah. Yeah, Ben. It’s true. And. Ben, they were alive when he did it.” 

Ben almost dropped the phone. “What? No. No that can’t be right, he doesn’t do that, he doesn’t  _ torture  _ people--”

“He did it, Ben. We can tell based on the blood patterns. He still waited till they were dead to carve the stars, but the words--”

“What words? What do they say?”

Rey took a big breath. “Ben. I think. I think when you get back you should ask to be removed from this case.”

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Rey?” 

“Ben. This is getting. This is about you. It’s all about you.” 

“What do they  _ say, Rey?”  _

“One word on each body, carved half a dozen times. Chest, arms, stomach.” Rey swallowed again. “Ben, they say ‘Bring him back.’” 

Ben turned to look at Hux almost instinctively his heart dropping into his stomach. 

“What is it?” Hux asked, concern arching in his eyes. Ben focused on it, latched on because the room felt like it was spooling away from him, like the world was trying to crawl in and--

“That’s all?” Ben asked softly. “No. Nothing else, no Shakespeare, or?” 

“No,” Rey said firmly. “The Shakespeare is for you, Ben. If you’re not here to get it why would he leave it?” 

Ben cleared his throat and shook away the fuzzy feeling in his head long enough to be impressed. “You’re. Good job, Rey. That’s. Good job.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Anything else I should know? Anything else you can tell me?” 

“I’ll have them take extra pictures for you, but, it all looks the same.”

“How far apart are the scenes?”

“They span about an eight mile radius. I’ll map them when I get back to the station to see if there’s a pattern. But.”

“And who are they?”

Rey rattled off three unfamiliar names. Nobodies. 

Ben disconnected and turned to look at Hux in awe. 

“So what was the message?”

Ben shook his head, tried to quell the frantic pounding in his chest. “He’s angry. He’s angry they suspended me. The message is ‘Bring him back.’ And he. He carved it into their skin  _ while they were still alive. _ ” Ben paused head spinning.  _ Why would he--  _ Because he was angry. Because. It was a  _ fucking threat.  _ Bring Ben back. Or people would  _ suffer.  _

“My God. I-- Ben. Are you alright?”

Ben was laughing. 

Hysterically. 

“Benjamin!” Hux said sharply. 

“I’m sorry! I can’t. I’m sorry! He. Those  _ bastards  _ thought they could suspend me and look what he does! Oh,  _ fuck,  _ how pissed are they right now? They thought they could handle this fucking case without me and look what happened!”

Hux sat impassively and watched Ben when he jolted to his feet, face in his hands to stifle his laughter. 

When he looked at Hux, Ben couldn’t contain the dark, vicious grin splitting his features. “This is  _ my case.  _ And fuck if The General didn’t just make sure that every goddamn one of them knows it.” 

“Ben. You almost sound like you. Like you’re  _ happy  _ about this.” 

“And if I am?” Ben raged. He was sober now. He was sober and he could feel everything and it was all anger, all fury tearing through him because they’d let Bell go and they’d thought they had a chance to find The General without him. It truly was  _ laughable.  _ “You said it yourself, what if this bastard’s just balancing the scales? You know how many sick fucks he’s taken out for me? Nineteen?  _ Nineteen!  _ That’s nineteen less criminals out there  _ fucking up my city.”  _

“He’s a criminal, Ben. What happened to ‘the law is just’?”

“Go talk to the families of the women Anthony Bell murdered and tell me it’s  _ just  _ that he’s walking around free right now on a  _ goddamn technicality.”  _

“It’s hardly a technicality, Benjamin.” 

“Whatever! He should be behind bars! Fuck. He doesn’t even deserve that, he should be  _ in the ground.”  _ Ben shook his head sharply, dark curls tangling around his ears and falling into his eyes. “I  _ will  _ find this asshole. I  _ will.  _ And the first fucking thing I’m gonna do when I find him is  _ thank him.”  _

“Ben.” 

“And then I’m gonna stick his ass in a cell with the rest of the monsters,” Ben insisted. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s a sick fuck too, and he deserves to fry. But goddamn if you gotta kill someone at least this bastard’s  _ picking the right fucking people.”  _

Ben fell silent, chest heaving, and Hux watched him with that same impassive expression, that same blandness around the corners of his mouth and in the causal set of his shoulders. 

But his eyes.

His eyes were sparkling.   
  
~~~  
  
“In and out,” Rey said sharply. “You _know_ how much trouble I can get it for this.”

“Just tell them I made you,” Ben drawled. “I’m very persuasive.”

“I don’t want to tell them anything,” Rey snapped. “Come on, hurry up.” 

Ben nodded and climbed out of Rey’s car. They both peered furtively up and down the abandoned street before quickly but casually crossing the yard, ducking under the police tape, and pausing at the front door of the tiny stand alone house while Rey fished out a key. Ben had to bend in half to get under the crime scene tape crossing the door when Rey pushed it open. 

The scene was deserted. 

The body had been moved of course. The place had been thoroughly combed. Ben’s eyes glossed over the evidence of print dusting and foot prints in blood. Someone had left behind a bag of discarded booties and gloves. Sloppy. 

Rey closed the door behind her and flipped on the light. “Like I said, not much to go on.” 

Ben mumbled and started to move carefully through each room. It was a very small house, occupied with one single occupant-- a middle aged man with no record to speak of. Not even a speeding ticket.

Ben saw nothing out of the ordinary in the kitchen, the living room. The man had been killed in a tiny study furnished with only a computer; all he found there was blood.

Ben paused, however, in the bedroom. 

“What?” 

“Something’s,” Ben muttered. “Something’s off.” He peered around, tried to pinpoint the exact thing that was bothering him. 

There was a small collection of books on the nightstand, wedged between two bookends. All but one was pushed flushed with the wall. 

Ben chuckled grimly. 

“What?” Rey asked again. 

“You said no Shakespeare,” Ben said, pointing to the thick paperback. “You were wrong.” 

Rey turned her head. Lifted her brows. 

Aside from being very slightly pulled from the wall, there was nothing to indicate this book was particularly special. But then, that was all Ben needed. Just a push.

“Got some gloves?” 

Rey fished a few out of the pocket of her long coat and thrust them over. 

Ben carefully lifted the book and let it fall open to a random page. It was very well read-- particularly  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ and the sonnets about the fair youth, if the cracks in the spine were any indication. Ben flipped a few pages. 

A single dot of blood marked the spot. He’d probably let it drip from the end of his silver blade, carefully dotting the exact line Ben should read. Ben grinned and said, “Son of a bitch.” 

“Did he mark something? What’s it say?” 

“‘Patience,’” Ben read, unable to stop the sheer amusement in his voice. “‘Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.’” 

“‘Patience?’” Rey repeated, musing. 

“He knew I’d come,” Ben said in mild awe. “He knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, wouldn’t be able to  _ wait  _ to be cleared.” 

“How did he know you’d come to  _ this _ scene?”

“It’s the most secluded,” Ben guessed. “Easiest to get in and out without being seen. And if he knew I’d be here, that means.” Ben peered down at the night stand, at the book the vic had been reading last and so had laid on its back rather than shelved between the bookends. “He left something for me.”  _ Lolita.  _

Ben yanked open the drawers in the night stand. “Did you all look at these?” he demanded.

Rey shrugged. “Yeah, they went through everything but nothing--” 

Ben put his fist through the bottom drawer.

“Hey!”

The false bottom tilted, scraped against the sides of the drawer and lifted out of the way at the pressure. Rey went very quiet. 

Ben’s stomach was in disgusted knots even before he opened the photo album. He knew what he’d find. When he flipped open the first page, he growled in disgust. Rey peered over his shoulder before he could snap the book closed and said, “Oh, jesus.” 

Ben pushed the album into her hands. “You had a feeling. You came by alone. You found this. Got it?” 

“Yeah,” Rey said, face pale. “You think there’s more?” 

Ben shrugged. “Maybe. You’ll want to get the team back in this room tomorrow to look. Check all the drawers, under the mattress, any crawl spaces, and hollow spots in the closets. And check his computer.”

“Those were polaroids,” Rey pointed out. 

“On the first page. They looked older too. Probably,” Ben shuddered. “Bought them somewhere. No, he’ll have other sources.” Ben pushed a hand through his hair. “You’ll need. Photos of all the neighborhood kids. See if you can identify any of the kids in the pictures. Find his victims. He could just be. Buying this shit online, but. I doubt it. These pervs like to take their own photos,” he concluded grimly.  

Rey nodded, clutching the album like it might burn her. “Hey Ben?” 

“Yeah.”

“You ever think.” Rey trailed off. “Never mind.” 

“What, Rey?”

She swallowed so hard Ben heard it. “I just can’t. Kid stuff. It really.” 

“Yeah. Fucks with all of us.” 

“Yeah.” Her eyes were hard. 

Ben knew what she was thinking. He didn’t make her say it; he was thinking it too.

The General had done the city a service. 

 

~~~  
  
Ben paused at the Cantina’s entrance, blocking some elaborately dressed queen from making her way inside. She sucked her teeth and he winked, instantly dispelling her annoyance. She wiggled her red nails at him before she sashayed around and made her way inside.

“They know I’m coming?” Ben asked Rey once they were alone again. 

“I. Maybe didn’t strictly mention it.” 

Ben sighed. “I’m an asshole, right? I’m an asshole.” 

“Little bit.” 

“Let’s get this over with.” 

Ben followed Rey inside and they wove through the crowd to find Poe, Finn, Phasma, and to Ben’s mild surprise, Jessika, sitting at the normal booth. They all looked  _ exhausted.  _

Poe saw Rey first and he smiled. Then his face fell and darkened. 

Ben said, “Hey, guys!” with a feeble attempt at excitement. Everyone but Phasma glared at him. Phas, however, was smirking. 

“Look who’s  _ alive,”  _ Poe drawled. 

“Yeah,” Ben rubbed his left elbow with his right hand. “Look at that.” 

Finn stared at him silently and Ben saw his hand tighten on Poe’s knee. Ben was surprised at the surge of guilt he felt at that. Poe had been worried. Finn had had to reassure him. Ben groaned and said, “I’m sorry, alright? It was a dick move.” 

“You can say that again,” Poe muttered. 

“I mean, why are you even surprised?” Jessika asked him. 

Ben glared at her. “You know, you and I used to be friends, Jess.” 

“Yeah, well. Maybe I’ll put my hands on someone you care about and we’ll see how much you like me then.” 

“Jessika,” Poe said softly. 

Ben was grinding his teeth. 

Jessika took a sip of her drink and looked very pointedly not at Ben. 

Phasma actually came to his rescue. “Alright, alright, let him be.” Then she snickered. “I think his  _ boyfriend  _ was angry enough for all of us.” 

“Oh, please tell,” Poe drawled. 

“Fuck,” Ben hissed, putting his head in his hand. He collapsed into the booth next to Finn and said, “Come on, Phas.” 

“Hux broke his door down and threw him in a bathtub,” Phasma said snidely, staring at Ben as she spoke. “Literally. Put his shoulder through the door. Picked him up. Put him in an ice cold tub.” 

“ _ Fuck,  _ dude!” Poe said loudly. 

“Yeah, it was super funny,” Ben drawled. “Really. Hysterical.” Also cold. 

Jessika was staring at Phasma skeptically. “I’ve seen that guy. The redhead?” Phasma nodded. “You’re telling us that scrawny little dude threw Ben’s big ass in a bathtub?”

Phasma and Ben both spoke with simultaneous outrage. “He is  _ not scrawny.”  _

“He’s like half your size,” Poe said pointedly. 

“ _ You’re  _ half my size,” Ben said. “Hux is. Well proportioned.” 

Phasma snorted into her drink. Jessika and Rey both rolled their eyes away from Ben and looked at each other (before very rapidly looking away and wasn’t  _ that  _ interesting?) while Poe and Finn both raised their brows at him and Ben said, “Ok, fuck you, you know what I meant.” 

“Sure, sure,” Finn said cheerily making everyone who wasn’t Ben laugh. 

Why had he decided to come out here tonight? He was still even a little hung over. But Hux had had to go handle some errands, and the idea of sitting alone in his apartment had made him a little queasy. 

“He didn’t throw me, he tripped me,” Ben corrected finally. “A very. Controlled. Trip. Whatever, can we not? I said I’m sorry, alright? And I’ve got the hang over to prove it.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Poe said for the table at large. “Whatever, don’t grovel for us.”

Ben gave him a weak, lopsided smile. Poe smiled back. 

They couldn’t stay mad at him forever, right?

“So, these latest scenes--”

“Nope,” Phasma snapped.

“No,” Finn said.

“You serious?” Poe asked.

“Wait, what?” Jessika prodded hopefully. They all turned and glared at her and she shrunk into her seat. “What? I have an article due.” 

Only Rey gave an uncomfortable little squirm, but Ben was certain no one else noticed. 

So they wouldn’t talk to him about the scenes then. He wouldn’t be here for long. 

The Cantina was packed to bursting. Ben realized for the first time all day that it was Friday. The bar showed it. The dance floor was crowded, the bartenders were overwhelmed, and there was a line snaking out of both bathrooms. Everyone was bathed in pink and blue neon and normally, Ben would have found it garish, but after the dim bloodiness of the scene he and Rey had just snuck away from, the exaggerated color was downright pleasant. It lent Phasma’s startlingly blonde hair a bubblegum tint that made Ben smile-- she’d kill him if she knew he thought it was a good look for her. She’d probably shave her head before she dyed her hair  _ pink.  _

Conversation picked back up around him. 

Ben was still thinking about Shakespeare. About the warm, contented surge in his chest when he’d found that book, that single speck of blood marking the passage. About the  _ respect  _ implicit in its meaning-- that Ben was no pale coward and sit on his thumbs and  _ wait  _ when there was  _ work  _ to be done. 

About the creeping satisfaction that had curled in his stomach when he realized who The General had set his sights on this time. He should have been angry. Filled with self righteous fury. But then that disgusting photo album, so carefully hidden and well tended, materialized in his mind and all he was was  _ glad.  _

He threw his hands behind his head and watched them all talk to each other without really hearing them. They were lost without him. Hopelessly tangled in the web The General had spun for Ben and Ben only. They’d never catch him. Not by themselves. Not without Ben’s help. 

They weren’t supposed to. The General wouldn’t allow it. 

The General allowed nothing that he hadn’t carefully orchestrated first. Those scenes. He’d known they’d draw attention. He’d known they’d ramp up the fear gripping the city, force the IA agents into a panic to either clear Ben or make an arrest, but either way to get the fuck out of dodge. 

All Ben had to do was sit back and let him work and he’d be back at his desk in no time. 

He’d taken care of everything. 

Ben chewed his tongue to keep from smiling at the air and wondered, absently, just  _ who _ The General would take care of next. 

 

~~~

Ben paused outside his door with his hand on the wood grain. 

Someone was in his apartment. 

He hadn’t heard anything, hadn’t seen anyone, he just  _ felt  _ with every fiber of his being that someone was there who wasn’t supposed to be. 

He un-holstered his gun-- not his service weapon, of course.  _ That  _ he had had to turn in along with his badge when the suspension went through. But he had pistols of his own. He liked the weight of a gun at his hip.

He thumbed the safety off, and, with his palm flat on the door, carefully pushed inside. 

It was silent, and dark. He closed the door, put both hands on his weapon, and used his shoulder to nudge the lightswitch on. 

There was a man in his living room. A familiar man. 

The icy cold shiver that careened from his stomach to his chest was fear. Pure, shameful, terror that clawed at him, that closed his throat and turned his stomach. Ben had never forgotten that handsome face, the high cheek bones and warm brown eyes and soft, gentle lips. The dashing curl of unruly blonde hair that fell across his forehead. The unassuming little dimple in his right cheek when he’d looked at Ben and said, “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Detective. Shouldn’t you be trying to find the man who hurt all those women? Why are you wasting your time questioning  _ me?”  _

So casual.  _ So  _ charming and warm and kind.

It was how he’d gotten so many women to trust him. 

Anthony Bell. 

Ben wrenched up his gun, finger already tugging at the trigger, when he realized Bell was.

Bell was bound. 

Bound to one of Ben’s kitchen chairs, his wrists lashed to his sides with countless loops of twine circling his narrow hips. 

Ben recognized that twine. He recognized those knots. 

Bell said, “ _ Solo?”  _

Anthony Bell was tied up in Ben’s apartment. His mind was empty but for that understanding, bone deep and utterly intoxicating. Anthony Bell was tied up in Ben’s apartment. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

Ben holstered his weapon. 

“What the fuck are you doing, you sick freak? Untie me. Right now.” 

Bell’s shirt was hanging from his chest, cut at the shoulders. Ben saw red lines-- not cuts really, just tiny, light scratches, on his shoulders. And on his neck. 

Like marks in a child’s coloring book. 

Connect the dots. 

“Untie me now!” Ben took a step forward, the movement slow, and dreamy. There was. There were a pair of black leather gloves on the coffee table. 

Beside them, a blade. 

Ben reached for one of the gloves and Bell’s face crumbled. 

“Solo,  _ untie me. Before he comes back.”  _ And then, quietly, “ _ Please.”  _

“Did they beg you?” Ben asked softly. The glove fit him perfectly. He reached for the second. 

“ _ What?”  _

“Or did you keep them gagged the whole time? I always wondered that. I always wondered if you took the tape off their faces before or after you killed them.” The blade was very light. It was one of those tiny pocket knives, the kind that usually came in a set with something larger. But it was viciously sharp. “I figured you liked to hear them scream. But we couldn’t prove it with the forensics. So tell me. Was I right?”

“I’ve been  _ cleared!”  _ Bell protested, pure panic ringing in his voice. It was a wonderful sound. As many times as Ben had interrogated him, he’d never sounded like this. 

“No, you haven’t,” Ben said. “You just got lucky. Lucky the hair I collected was a little older than it should have been.” 

“ _ I knew that was you _ . You planted that,  _ I didn’t leave shit.”  _

Ben looked at him. Bell stared back, eyes going wide as he realized in that one instant, he’d done something he’d never done before. He’d slipped up. 

He’d admitted it. 

Ben felt like he was moving very slowly, but he knew the opposite was true, knew by the way Bell’s gaze was following him that he was whip fast when he leaned forward and lined the little knife up with the tiny red mark on Bell’s neck. 

“ _ I--wait--”  _

It was like cutting warm butter. That easy. Ben had seen this wound so many times. Had imagined it  _ so many times  _ and there was no surprise. It felt exactly as he knew it would. The hot, wet slide. The slightest tug when he hit the artery. And then--

A brilliant fountain of scarlet arched across the room and Bell sucked in a single frantic breath. Ben had cut his neck, not his throat, so he was able to say, “ _ Fuck, fuck, Solo-- what. What have you-- Help-- help. Me.”  _ His voice faded. The spurts of blood grew smaller, thinner. The head fell on the neck. 

It really was that fast. Ben had known but he’d never quite understood just how quickly it would happen. One. Two. Three. 

Dead.

The leather in the gloves creaked as he adjusted his grip and stepped behind the body to carve out the stars that had been marked for him-- five on each shoulder. 

Five.

Bell deserved every one.

As he finished the last star, he heard a voice. 

“‘The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch, which hurts, and is desired.’”

He knew. He’d known for a long time, somehow, and had just refused to admit it to himself. But he knew. 

So it wasn’t a shock when he lifted his head and found crystal green eyes staring back at him, watching him as he had so many times before, as he had that very morning, when he’d made Ben make his own eggs. 

He’d always known. 

The little knife fell from his hand, clattered to the ground, and Ben crossed back into the kitchen, heart racing as it had not since he had first laid eyes on Bell. 

Hux didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Not until Ben kissed him. 

Then something changed. Something shifted and suddenly Hux was kissing him as he never had before, as if he was breathing Ben’s air, as if he  _ needed it,  _ and Ben gasped into his mouth and tried to pull him closer because Hux had never ever  _ needed  _ him before but he was. But now. 

Hux broke away, chest heaving, eyes  _ glowing,  _ and his voice was low and intimate, a lover’s whisper, when he said, “What do you say, Benjamin?” 

Ben blinked at him. Ben blinked at him and felt his chest swell like it would burst and he couldn’t look anymore, couldn’t stand how bright Hux had become. He tilted his head forward, pressed his forehead to Hux’s chest and spoke as the other man laid his hands against the back of Ben’s neck and head. His voice was soft and breathy. Desperate. 

Reverant. 

“Thank you.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeyyyyyyy
> 
> So now seems like a good time to tell you to come yell at me on tumblr? I'm [right here](https://ellabesmirched.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Basically, I love you guys and I hope this 'reveal' is still satisfying even though we pretty much knew it was Hux all along? Mostly? 
> 
> <3<3<3


	11. Red Handed

Ben finally opened his eyes to see his own leather clad hands fisted in Hux’s shirt front. 

There was blood on his sleeve. 

There was a dead man behind him. A man he had killed. Murdered in cold blood. A man he had-- 

Ben straightened with a huge breath that squealed into his lungs and turned his head without releasing Hux’s shirt. Blood was pooling on his floor. The spray coated his coffee table and had splattered across his TV. There was a framed photo of Leia and him hugging after he’d gotten the promotion to detective sitting on the TV stand; it was almost completely obscured by a film of scarlet gore. 

He’d painted his apartment red. Not. Not Hux. Not The General. He had. 

Ben had. 

Another breath screamed into him and his voice tilted out of his throat as the whole room pulsed once around him like blood pounding in his ears. “ _ Hux--”  _ He felt it like the delayed full bodied reaction to a serious injury, like the feeling when the knife has slipped and plunged into a hand instead of its target and for one terrible moment, nothing hurts before everything does-- the evanescent moment of calm before the inevitable pulse of  _ terror  _ and  _ pain. _

__ “Look at me,” Hux demanded, voice suddenly loud and firm in the deathly ( _ deathly)  _ quiet of the apartment. He put his hands on Ben’s cheeks, tore Ben’s face from the carnage he had caused and forced Ben to meet his eyes, sparkling like emeralds. His cold, hard eyes. Dead like stones. “Deep breath. In. Hold it. Good. Out. Again. In. Good, Ben. Good. Out. One more time. Hold it. A little longer. Good.” 

The room stopped pulsing. Hux stroked a strand of hair away from Ben’s cheeks, tucked it behind his ear, the motion confident and smooth. “Good, Benjamin. Good. You’ve done  _ so well.  _ I’m  _ so proud of you.”  _

__ _ Proud--  _ Ben shook his head, a short, terrified jerk.  _ “What do we do?”  _ His voice didn't sound like it belonged to him. It was high and panicked, scratched air and boiling heat. “ _ We have to get rid of the body--” _

__ Hux scoffed, a cold chuckle on his lips, and said arrogantly, “I don’t hide bodies, Benjamin.” 

“This is my  _ apartment,  _ Hux, he’s  _ in my apartment--” _

“Listen very carefully. I’m going to call nine-one-one. You came home from the bar. You found him like this. You could tell the blood was fresh so you checked his pulse. You checked the apartment because you thought The General might still be here, but you were alone. I arrived only a few minutes behind you. We had already decided to meet back here earlier in the day. Do you understand?” 

“ _ Hux, the security footage in the elevator and the hallways--” _

“Will show exactly what I’ve told you and nothing more. Now give me those gloves.” 

Ben wet his dry lips and peeled the gloves off. Hux smoothed them into his pocket-- Ben couldn’t tell they were there. 

“Now. Go check his pulse. We need your prints on his neck.” 

“ _ What--” _

__ “You’re going to tell them you checked to be sure he was dead. We need your prints on his neck. Do it now. And pocket the knife.” 

Hux gave Ben a gentle push and he stumbled toward the body on shaky legs. He took one step. Another. “ _ Hux.”  _

“Do as I say, Benjamin,” Hux replied, voice sharp and firm and. Oddly comforting. Ben took three huge steps, laid two fingers below Bell’s ear, then stumbled away like the body might burst into flame at any moment.  _ The body. He’d-- _

__ “Yes, I need to report a murder. Twelve Kessel Run, apartment K. Yes, quite sure. We can attempt resuscitation if you require, but. The cause of death seems to be exsanguination and he was dead when we arrived. I don’t believe CPR is going to do much good. My partner.”  _ Partner.  _ “It’s his apartment.” Ben bent and picked up the little pocket knife. He wiped it off on the carpet and closed it before he slid it into his pocket-- put his bloody shoeprint over the smear for good measure. The General never left blood smears like that. But Ben, traipsing through the scene too stunned to think of protocol, might. “He’s a detective. Ben Solo-- he says he came home and found him like this. I arrived a few minutes after he did. No, no one else is here. Yes, we’re sure. Thank you. Thank you. I’m going to hang up. No, no need to stay on the-- if you insist. But I’m going to put down the phone and make sure he’s alright. He’s shaken up, understandably. Yes. Thank you.” 

Ben watched Hux mute the phone then set it down on the bar counter separating Ben’s kitchen from his living room. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Ben said gruffly. 

“The police will be arriving shortly, Ben. Are you going to be able to tell them what I told you?” 

Ben stared up at him. Hux’s tone left no room for argument. “Yes.”

“Good. You’re doing well, Ben,” he added gently, and Ben nodded, felt something in his chest go hard and determined.  _ Doing well.  _

He sat heavily on the little trunk by his door where he kept all his shoes and put his head in his hands. Hux stared down at him, muted phone back in hand. In the distance, Ben heard sirens. 

 

~~~

 

The uniforms showed up first. Then Luke. He took one look at Ben and threw his arms around him without saying anything. 

Then Leia. 

“Oh my God, Ben are you alright?” She threw herself at him the way Luke had, yanked him down and crushed his head to her chest like she’d done when he was a child and wasn’t a foot taller than her. 

“Fine,  Mom,” Ben said gruffly. “I’m fine.” 

Leia just held him and Ben could hear her heart racing in her chest. She shouldn’t be here. Of course Luke had called her, but. 

Poe was next, with Finn right behind him. Like Leia and Luke, he threw his arms around Ben’s shoulder and for one instant, Ben thought he might break. 

Poe smelled like Poe. He hugged like Poe. He’d never make Ben do what Hux had--

Hux cleared his throat and when Ben looked up, Hux was staring at him, face emotionless, eyes sparkling. Poe glanced at Hux then took a step back, eyes clouding. “Ben. God, Ben, what happened?” 

Ben coughed. “I. Came home and. Found him like this. The door. Hux broke the door. Anyone could get in--it was just open and-- I mean anyone” He cut himself off. He was babbling, only half aware of what he was speaking before he spoke it. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” Ben said hollowly. 

Hux shook his head, looked at Poe and said softly, “I think he’s in shock.” 

Ben turned to look at Hux and couldn’t muster the strength or head space to argue. He sank back onto the little trunk and let them all work. Finn and Poe stayed at his side. They weren't on duty yet; and they’d been drinking. They were here as friends. Not. Not detectives looking for a murderer. Not police officers ready to arrest him. 

Friends. Who thought it was impossible that this was anything other than what Ben said it was. Who believed it entirely ludicrous that Ben could have had anything to do with the dead murderer growing cold in his living room.

Poe looked at Hux and lifted his brows. “Are  _ you  _ alright?” 

“I’m fine. But… it’s not my apartment.” 

“Ben,” Poe said gently, putting his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You should get out of here. Let them work. Do you have a place to stay?”

Ben blinked. Where would he  _ go? _

__ “He can stay with me,” Hux said firmly. 

Ben’s eyes snapped up to stare. He’d never been to Hux’s apartment. Hux had always changed the subject, or insisted they go to Ben’s. He didn’t want to go to Hux’s. He didn’t want--

Poe nodded and stepped further away and Ben wanted to grab him and pull him back, never let go. Hux. Hux was. 

Hux put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and said very softly, and very tenderly, “It’s alright, Ben. We can leave soon. You. Don’t have to stay here.” Ben met his eyes and they were. So cold. They’d always been  _ so cold  _ but his voice and his face and his body language were so gentle and-- Ben felt a furious, terrified chill race over his skin. Poe and Finn and Leia were watching. Everyone else could hear them. Everyone else could  _ see  _ them.

Ben bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming and nodded, very slowly. 

Phasma came next, sprinting up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. “ _ Hux.” _

__ “Phasma,” came Hux’s bland reply. 

“I. You.” Her eyes darted between Ben and Hux and then she said. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Hux said in some surprise. “It’s Ben’s apartment.” 

Phasma looked over at Ben and then her face softened. “Ben. Are you--”

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I’m okay, Phasma.” He could tell she didn’t believe him. His voice was flat and emotionless; he couldn’t seem to muster enough feeling to inject into it. Phasma nodded slowly, stepped inside to look around. 

Everywhere Ben turned there were people who cared about him, all of them watching him with wide, fearful eyes and. Not a shred. Not a single, solitary shred of suspicion. It hadn’t even crossed anyone’s mind that Ben.  _ Ben.  _ Had held that knife. Had sliced that neck. Had--

Ben put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees so he wouldn’t have to look at any of them. He couldn’t take it. 

Rey arrived last, looking alert and put together. Ben realized she was the only one on the main General team who hadn’t been drinking. She’d probably been home already, had come prepared for a scene, not half drunk and there just to make Ben feel safe. 

She was the one who questioned him. 

“I need to speak to you alone, Ben. Are you alright? Can you do that right now?” Her voice was gentle and slow and Ben appreciated it until he realized it was the voice he always used with the families of the victims or the neighbors who’d made the discovery. The voice he’d used with the French girls. It was as blandly unthreatening as she could make her voice and simply oozed  _ understanding.  _ It was. Pity. 

“Yeah, Rey, I can talk,” he told her tiredly, trying to make himself sound as  _ Ben  _ as possible so she wouldn’t worry. So she wouldn’t  _ suspect.  _

She took him into his own bedroom and stood there while he sat on the bed. She looked a lot bigger than she was, watching him. “Ben, what the hell  _ happened?”  _

It was easier than it should have been. “I got home from the bar and he was just.  _ Sitting  _ there. Still bleeding. Still warm. I. I scanned the apartment, but he was the only one here. There wasn’t even a window open or anything. He. I guess he came through the front door. Hux broke it yesterday. When he. When I was. Drunk.”

“You didn’t see anyone you didn’t recognize?” 

Ben shook his head. “I took the elevator. He. Probably took the stairs on his way out. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Rey. I  _ just missed him.”  _

Rey nodded, tried to mask the fury in her eyes when she said soothingly, “I know. I know.” 

What did it mean about him that he could lie to her like this? That he could be  _ so convincing _ ? And really, she didn’t suspect  _ a thing.  _

A strange, twisted satisfaction was creeping under his skin. He was playing his part very well. Hux would be proud.  __

_ Hux would be proud. _

“Do you have any idea why? I mean, Ben, he’s never put a body somewhere before. It’s always. Somewhere the victim was comfortable. But. Anthony Bell, in your apartment. Do you think he’s threatening you? Saying you’re next?” 

“No,” Ben said shaking his head and staring at his own feet so she couldn’t see his eyes. He wasn’t sure he could hide the gleam there. Just like for all his charm, Hux had never really been able to hide the ever present chill in his. “It was a gift.”

“ _ A gift?”  _

“He. He’s. He thought he was doing me a favor. Getting Bell out of the way for me and making sure he could never hurt anyone again at the same time. Two birds with one stone. You remember his last kill-- he’s toying with me. He wants me back in the field, he wants me where he can see me, where we can both  _ play. _ ” This part was easy. This part wasn’t a lie.

“He knows where you live.” 

Ben shrugged. 

Rey finally hugged him, fiercely strong for someone so small, and Ben was shocked at the touch. Rey had never hugged him before. But she was holding him so  _ tightly.  _ Like a friend. Like family. 

Something strange occurred to him then. Under different circumstances, they might have known each other. Ben might have held her as a baby. Babysat her even. She might have grown up knowing him, knowing he was named after  _ her  _ grandfather, knowing what that meant. 

Instead they hadn’t even known the other existed. Instead she was a stranger. 

Ben hugged her back. 

When she pulled away, she was staring at Ben’s sleeve. “I need your clothes.” 

Ben blinked dumbly at her. She needed his--?

Oh. 

_ Fuck. _

“I like this shirt,” Ben protested feebly. 

Rey frowned at him. “It’s procedure, Ben. You know I have to take them.” 

Of course.  _ Of course  _ she did. Poe and Phasma and, fuck, even Finn, would never bother to  _ take his clothes.  _ But of course Rey had to follow every fucking rule to the letter. Of course she had to do everything  _ perfectly.  _

“Fine,” he said stiffly. “Get out so I can change.” 

“I should--”

“Rey. Get out.”

“Right,” she said hesitantly. “I’ll. Wait outside.” 

The second the door closed behind her Ben started rummaging. He had other pairs of jeans identical to this one-- without blood stains  _ inside  _ the pockets.

When he emerged from the room a few minutes later, the jeans he had been wearing were safely at the bottom of his overnight bag-- and another, not bloody pair was in his hand along with the blood stained shirt. He’d tugged on sweats and a t-shirt with bleach stains just for good measure. So it wouldn’t even cross her mind that maybe Ben was lazy enough to buy four pairs of the same jeans like it might if he emerged wearing a similar outfit.

The knife had fit in his wallet. His wallet was in the overnight bag. The bag was slung over his shoulder. He needed to get it  _ out of his apartment.  _

Hux watched him when he handed Rey his shirt and jeans and his eyes were sparkling again. No doubt wondering if Ben had thought to swap out the jeans. Hux was too meticulous for something so small to ever slip his mind. 

He looked away. Looking at Hux felt too much like confessing. Like if he met the other man’s eyes everyone in the room would see everything hovering in the air between them. 

“Your shoes, Ben.” 

“My  _ shoes?  _ Fuck, Rey,  _ l like these--” _

“You’ll get them back.” 

“You  _ know  _ I won’t,” Ben complained. He hadn’t checked his shoes… He’d stepped in the blood. That wasn’t what he was worried about. But. Blood spatter on the tops-- he hadn’t checked to see if they’d been hit. An expert analyst could pull a lot from spatter on the tops of his shoes.  _ Fuck, what if he’d left a shadow?  _ Empty space in the stains on his carpet where he’d been standing when Bell’s throat had sprayed the room in scarlet.

“I’ll buy you a new pair, Ben,” Hux drawled, making everyone chuckle. The sound died quickly when everyone realize exactly what they were laughing at. What they were doing here. 

“Alright,” Ben said. He gave Rey his shoes. Because Hux had told him too. 

“Can I take him home now?” Hux asked the room at large.

Ben saw far too many  eyes-- Rey and Phasma, Poe and Finn, Leia and Luke, and however many crime scene investigators and uniforms were there all jump between Hux and Ben and Ben felt chills raise along his arms. 

No one wanted him to go. To disappear into the night with Hux. Ben could  _ feel  _ it. Could see Leia struggling not to beg him to stay with her, could see Poe wishing the same. 

He  _ had  _ to go with Hux. He couldn’t go with any one of them if he’d wanted too. Hux had seen. Everything. Hux  _ knew.  _

“Yeah,” Ben said loudly, forcing some shred of  _ normalcy  _ into his voice. “You need anything else, Rey?” He turned and looked at the body because he knew what it would do to him. 

It worked. He shuddered visibly and his voice shook when he said, “I can’t stay here anymore.” 

Across the room, the corner of Hux’s mouth lifted in a microexpression Ben had come to know  _ so well.  _ Surprise. Satisfaction.  _ Pleasure.  _

No one else saw. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Ben,” Rey said gently. “I’ll take it from here. I just need to speak to you first, Mr. Hux.” Ben looked at her sharply as she spoke. There was a strange edge to her voice, a spark in her eyes. Poe’s too. What--?

“Certainly,” Hux said mildly. He squeezed Ben’s shoulder as he passed. Rey took him into the kitchen and the two started speaking in hushed voices so Ben couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Poe asked, distracting him. “You sure you want to-- I mean, you can always get a hotel, or. Or stay with me.” Ben looked up at Poe sharply. What those words would have meant to him not so long ago. How desperately he would have liked to hear them. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine with Hux. It’s better that way anyway. You and Finn--”

“I don’t mind,” Finn interjected. Ben hadn’t quite realized he’d been listening, that he was standing so close. 

“I’d rather go with Hux,” Ben said firmly. He couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not.

Hux looked exceedingly annoyed when he and Rey stepped back to the front door a few minutes later. Rey was staring at him with shadows and determination in her eyes. Ben didn’t like it.

“Shall we go, Benjamin?” 

Ben nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

“And you all should go too.” Rey announced sternly to the rest of the team-- and Leia. “You can’t be here when I know you all just came from the bar.”

“You did too,” Finn pointed out.

Rey shrugged. “I wasn’t drinking.”

“Rey is right,” Luke said calmly. “She can oversee this for now. We can all come back in the morning.” He put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and said very softly, “You sure you’re alright?”

Ben nodded. “I’m fine. I mean. As can be expected. Hux will. I’ll be alright at Hux’s.” 

Luke nodded and before his hand could fall, Leia had thrown her arms around his middle and squeezed him like she would never let go. 

Ben couldn’t take it. 

What she would  _ do  _ if she ever found out. How she would  _ look at him-- _

Ben hugged her back, one single, cursory squeeze, and then shook her away. “Let’s go.” 

He practically sprinted from the apartment. They all let him go.

Thank God. They all let him go.  

 

~~~

 

Hux pulled away from the curb and Ben put his face in his hands and let out the half-scream, half-groan he’d been holding in since Hux had dialed 911. 

Hux released a single, amused chuckle and something in Ben’s head cracked and split apart. 

“You’re a fucking  _ monster _ .” 

Hux laughed again. “Big words coming from a cold blooded killer.” 

“I. Am  _ not--”  _

“So you  _ didn’t  _ slice open a bound man’s neck and watch him bleed out?” Then he added softly, “You didn’t  _ enjoy it?” _

“You. You--”

“Did I hold a gun to your head, Ben?” 

“No, but--”

“Did I put the knife in your hand?” 

“You. No,  _ but--” _

“Did I  _ ask  _ you to kill a man?” 

“You. It was you. The whole time.” 

“Was it?” Hux snickered and Ben felt chills raise along his back and neck and arms. Hux sounded  _ different.  _ Ben couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something in his voice, something  _ casual,  _ something so completely at ease in a way Hux had never, never sounded before. No one else was around. Only Ben. And Ben knew. Ben knew what he was. 

Hux didn’t have to hide anymore. 

“What do you mean?” Ben’s voice was muffled, coming from his palms. 

“I think you just accused me of some very serious crimes, Benjamin. Crimes for which you have no proof of my involvement. Or would you like to frame me too?” 

Ben didn’t say anything, a terrible realization growing. Hux hadn’t actually confessed to anything. His words and his actions had some  _ heavy goddamn implications  _ but he hadn’t actually  _ said--  _

Ben turned and looked at Hux sitting next to him, flying through red lights and speeding around tight corners in the most nondescript black car Ben had ever seen him drive, and he felt. Not fear. Not anger. Not shame. 

Awe.

Hux parked. “Come on.”

Ben felt like a man in a dream when he climbed out of the car. He didn’t feel the concrete under his shoes. He didn’t hear the car door when he closed it. Hux was silent as he led Ben inside, nodded once to the guard at the security desk who Ben didn’t even see, and stepped into an elevator. 

And then Ben was in Hux’s apartment. 

Ben was in  _ Hux’s apartment.  _

Hux casually strolled into his kitchen, dropped his keys on the counter. 

The apartment was. Huge. The elevator opened directly into it and Ben vaguely recalled Hux had needed to swipe a card to get it to come up this high. The whole top two floors of the building were Hux’s. Ben saw a lot of exposed brick and raw iron, simple, minimalist decor, and several beautiful abstract paintings that under different circumstances Ben would enjoy examining. 

The sound of the doors closing behind them made Ben’s brain suddenly jump into gear again. He knew what he needed to do. The plan (if it could even be called that) appeared in his mind fully formed and he moved without considering if he was doing the right thing or not. He supposed this had always been his intention. 

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have packed his bag as he did.

A metallic click rang through the room and Hux went very still. Ben’s voice only shook once when he said, “Get on the ground, Hux.” 

He didn’t turn around. His back was straight. His head turned ever so slightly and Ben felt his fist tighten around the grip of the pistol he was holding. The handcuffs in the fist steadying the gun jingled. “Hands on your head. On the ground. Now.”

“You’re going to  _ arrest me,  _ Benjamin? Do you suppose they’d let us share a cell?” 

“Hux.  _ Get on the fucking ground.”  _

Hux whirled around and Ben actually jerked, even though he was six feet away and holding a loaded gun. But Hux was--

He’d never looked at Ben like that. Or he had, but Ben had only seen the expression for a few seconds and hadn’t understood what it meant. It was condescending. It was incredulous. It was. The look of a man who knows he is staring at someone who has profoundly miscalculated a situation. 

“Hux. I will shoot you.” 

“You can’t kill me,” Hux laughed, voice terrible and cold. “You  _ love me.”  _

Ben’s heart rate wasn’t steady anymore. It was pounding in his throat so fast it hurt. 

He felt like his heart was breaking.“You killed.  _ All those people _ .”

“I did? Are you sure, Benjamin?”

“ _ Stop it. Stop calling me that!  _ You killed them! Admit it, Hux. Tell me the  _ truth _ .”

Hux blinked once and the corner of his mouth lifted. That smirk. The one Ben  _ loved so much _ and he was just so  _ goddamn beautiful _ and-- “I did.” 

The breath Ben had been holding rushed out of him and the words, the certainty of them settled in his chest and his gut. “You’ve been playing me. This whole  _ fucking time,  _ you’ve just been.  _ Playing.”  _ Hux kept smirking at him, hands thrust in his pockets like they were talking about the weather. Ben’s voice cracked when he asked, “ _ Why?”  _

Hux tilted his head, studied Ben very carefully, as if he had never considered this question before. And then he said, “You looked like fun.” 

Bile rose in the back of Ben’s throat. The barrel of the pistol shook. “ _ Fun.”  _

“Mhmm.” Hux nodded.

“All of it?” Ben demanded. But no-- he couldn’t handle that answer, couldn’t bear to hear Hux say it had  _ all been an act  _ and he said too quickly, “You just-- you. How.” Ben had to pause to swallow the sick feeling in his chest. “How long?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Benjamin.” 

Ben felt his face twisting in disgust because Hux sounded. _ Exasperated.  _

“You’ve been  _ stalking me,”  _ Ben spat. “How long? How fucking long?” 

Hux shrugged. “What gave you that idea?” 

“Shakespeare.” Ben didn’t recognize his own voice. “I wrote papers on ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ in college. It was my favorite play,” he added softly. “I never told you that. You knew. You didn’t  _ guess.  _ You  _ knew. How?”  _

“Of all the mysteries I built for you, that is the one you chose to start with?” 

“ _ Answer the fucking question.”  _ Ben kept his voice low but it still sounded like he was screaming. He thrust the gun at Hux as he spoke and Hux didn’t move, didn’t flinch, and Ben thought he was perhaps far more stupid than Ben had believed because he was just  _ standing there  _ and apparently had no idea how hard it was for Ben to keep the finger on the trigger steady, how badly he wanted to just  _ squeeze.  _

“I read your papers. Some of them, at least. Much of that information is kept on file. To prevent plagiarization.” Hux said with a smile. “Perhaps we should start at the beginning, Ben.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and Ben flinched as he spread them, fingers splayed, body language so  _ charming  _ and disarming. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Why me?” 

“Anthony Bell,” Hux answered without pause. “You arrested him. He terrorized the city for months and when you arrested him they plastered your face on every newspaper, every network. They called you a hero. They,” Hux stopped to chuckle. “They  _ debated  _ whether you should be reprimanded for breaking his arm. We all knew you’d done it on purpose-- the whole city. But. No one actually  _ cared.  _ And when they asked you about it, when they interviewed you, what did you say, Benjamin?” 

Ben swallowed. 

“What did you say?”

His voice was so soft he could barely hear it. “‘Justice always whirls in equal--’”

“‘Justice always whirls in equal measure!” Hux proclaimed jubilantly. “A young,  _ sexy _ \--”

“Don’t.”

“--Detective  _ quoting Shakespeare  _ at reporters? Proclaiming himself the very sword of Justice! I had to see, Benjamin.” He thrust his hands in his pockets again, so casual. So at  _ ease.  _ “I had to see if you were who you claimed to be.” 

“Monster,” Ben hissed again. 

But now that Hux was talking, he wasn’t going to stop. “And you didn’t disappoint, did you! How simple it  was, how  _ easy  _ to bring you around to my way of thinking--”

“No. Shut up, you  _ didn’t--” _

_ “Don’t pretend with me, Ben, I can see you.” _

“Shut up.” 

Hux laughed. He  _ laughed  _ and taunted, “I  _ see you.”  _

“No.” 

“You were taking the law into your own hands long before you met me, weren’t you? All I did was  _ give you permission.  _ I cleaned up your city  _ for you.  _ I gift wrapped Anthony Bell and handed him to you on a  _ platter.  _ I didn’t put the knife in your hand,” he said again. “I just left it where you could find it.” 

“You’re a bastard.” Ben’s voice was desperate and high and wet like steam from a kettle. “You--”

“I will admit,” Hux added, voice low. He took a step forward and Ben jerked, stepped back. “I had no idea. No idea that you could. That we’d.” He smirked and the expression made Ben’s chest ache because it was so familiar and in another life, it would have been almost  _ sweet.  _ “I made one miscalculation,” he admitted. “I never expected you’d be attracted to me.” He chuckled, shook his head, and Ben felt his head start to swim because in another man, in any other time this confession would have been  _ so wonderful _ , would have been exactly what he’d wanted  _ so fucking badly.  _ But now-- “Never expected how well we’d  _ fit--” _

“Please, stop.” Ben’s voice cracked again. He was begging. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t take Hux standing there looking like that. Looking at him like that. “ _ Please,  _ stop it--”

“Imagine my surprise. When we  _ finally  _ met. When I could finally look you in the eye. Imagine my surprise to find you staring back at me.”

Ben brandished the gun again because he needed Hux to stop talking. He needed him to  _ shut up _ but when he opened his mouth to scream all that emerged was a half strangled sob.  A plea. “Hux.”

“I never intended to love you.” 

“ _ Shut up.”  _ Ben screamed. He screamed and he closed the distance between them in three huge steps. Pressed the gun to Hux’s chest. He could feel the heat radiating from Hux’s body, could feel how hard his chest was at the end of the barrel. And still Hux just  _ stood  _ there. “ _ Shut up.  _ You  _ monster,”  _ Ben insisted desperately.  _  “ _ You  _ murderer.”  _ Hux didn’t move. His eyes dropped to the gun. The corner of his mouth lifted. “How could you? How can you talk to me about  _ love  _ when you. You’ve been  _ lying-- _ You’re a  _ fucking psychopath.  _ You have  _ no idea--” _

“‘ Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love.’”

“ _ Stop it!”  _ Ben thrust the gun forward so hard Hux stumbled. His hands were shaking, and a memory came into his head-- Hux sitting across from him in a restaurant he could never afford on his own, looking so goddamn  _ perfect  _ in his suit _.  _ Reciting Sonnet 20 in immaculate form, his voice low and intimate, his strange, subtle little accent curling so perfectly around those words. Ben had kissed him when they got to the car. He’d tasted like red wine. “Stop it, please. Stop it.” 

“I thought you liked Shakespeare?” 

“ _ Fuck you.” _ There were tears on his face. “You’re a  _ liar  _ and a  _ murderer--” _

“I’m a killer,” Hux said softly. “There’s a difference.” 

“No, there isn’t! You murdered those people, you  _ tortured  _ those men, and you  _ lied to me,  _ I trusted you and  _ you lied--”  _ Ben’s hands were falling and he didn’t realize it. “Hux, you--”

Hux moved whip fast like a viper. Grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisted his hands and Ben was weaponless. Ben felt his heart slam in his chest and before he could respond, Hux had broken the gun apart, dropped the pieces on the floor and was glaring at Ben with his lips curling in amused fury. “You think--” 

Ben didn’t wait for him to finish. He charged forward in a stupid, reckless tackle, shoulder first, and Hux moved in a graceful, easy motion. In another second, Hux’s hands were on Ben’s wrists  _ somehow _ , twisting, and he did something, Ben didn’t  _ know what,  _ and Ben was on his knees with his arms wrenched up behind his back and Hux was standing behind him with one hand on his wrists and the other in his hair and he hissed, livid, “The last man who stuck a gun in my face didn’t live to talk about it. Consider yourself lucky--” 

Ben twisted, managed to yank one wrist free, grab Hux’s hand and jerk around. Hux’s other hand stayed in his hair and he came tumbling forward, landed on top of Ben, chest to chest, and Ben spat, “You can’t kill me. You  _ love me.”  _

And then they were rolling, a violent, enraged tumble of tangled limbs and furious grunts. Ben was bigger. Ben was stronger. But every time he got his arms around Hux, the slighter man flowed out of his grasp. He used Ben’s clothes against him, twisting the collar of Ben’s shirt until he couldn’t breathe, and Ben reached for the handcuffs, lying mostly forgotten on the floor where he had dropped them when Hux took the gun. His throat spasmed and he started tugging the collar with his other hand, trying to rip the fabric as he stretched for the cuffs. The second he hooked one finger around the chain, Hux released his collar and started moving again. Ben was on top. Ben could--

He felt the room tilt and his shoulder met the concrete floor. A spray of pain shot through him and when he looked up, Hux was on top of him. He jerked his hips, tried to buck Hux off and felt cold metal close around his right wrist. 

The hand cuffs. Hux had--

Ben flung himself up furiously; Hux rolled away and Ben was on top again, Ben was regaining control but then--

How--

Hux was under him and  _ behind him _ and Ben had done the  _ stupidest thing,  _ Ben had let him get  _ behind him.  _ He knew better. He  _ knew better,  _ he was  _ trained better  _ than this, but he’d always been a wrestler and Hux was using fucking  _ brazilian ju jitsu  _ and Ben hadn’t expected him to be  _ so good at it _ , and even though Ben was stronger, Hux knew just how to move, just how to shift just so that it didn’t matter in the slightest.

His own arm was wrapped around his neck. How had Hux done that? Hux was yanking on the handcuffs, tugging Ben’s arm across his neck and using his legs twisted around Ben’s waist to keep him in place. Ben tried to reach back with his free arm and felt Hux suddenly jerk and shift and--

Rear naked. The rear naked choke. Ben’s hands were free again, but Hux had him and--

Ben curled his fingers around Hux’s forearm and tucked his chin to his chest to keep the pressure away. The handcuffs trailed, forgotten and Ben gasped, “Hux, don’t--” But Hux was  _ so strong  _ and Ben had  _ fucked up,  _ he should have known better, but he had  _ really fucked up  _ and--

He felt the pressure on his neck. Felt Hux’s arm finally slip under his chin. Felt the room start to go dim and he pulled at Hux’s arm with every ounce of useless strength he had, but it did nothing. Strength didn’t matter here; Hux had all the leverage. Hux was going to--

Hux was going to kill him and reflexively,  _ desperately, _ he tapped Hux’s arms. Once. Twice. Three times.  

Hux released him and Ben sucked in a huge breath, body going limp with relief and Hux shifted again. Ben let him. Let him roll on top and sit on Ben’s hips and. 

Hux put his hand to Ben’s throat and Ben went very still. Hux could have choked him out. Fuck, Hux could have  _ killed him.  _ How many times could Hux have killed him and he hadn’t? How many times had they been alone? Had Ben--

Fuck, Ben had let Hux  _ tie him up.  _

Hux’s pupils were huge. His hair was in his face and his lips were curling in triumph and his skin was flushed with exertion and Ben felt like he was sinking into the black of his pupils, like it was swallowing Ben up and after  _ everything  _ Hux had done. Who he was. 

Who he was. 

He was sitting too far back on Ben’s hips. He was practically in Ben’s  _ lap.  _

Ben stared up at him, chest heaving, and felt the hard knot of anger there get tight and cold. Hux’s fingers twitched at his throat and Ben’s lips curled in a terrible mockery of his father’s crooked grin.

Ben kicked hard and Hux gasped, sucked in a startled breath when Ben managed to get his right leg in front of Hux’s chest and shove Hux to the floor. He cursed. 

Instinct. Instinct  _ finally  _ took over and when Ben came back to himself seconds later, he was sitting on top with Hux twisted beneath him, bearing all his considerable weight on the lighter man and Ben laughed once, a cold, ruthless chuckle, and said, “You should have taken me out when you had the chance.” 

Hux’s voice was strained when he replied, “Now where’s the fun in that.” 

Hux heaved. Ben tottered sideways. 

He felt like he was sitting under a strobe light. The room would go black, his mind shutting down as muscle memory took over, and when it lit back up again he and Hux were contorted in some new position. Hux with his legs stretched over Ben’s chest, leveraging all his weight against Ben’s ben elbow, trying to wrench Ben into submission as Ben twisted and pulled back with sheer brute strength. Ben with his ankles hooked around Hux’s legs, keeping the other man from moving away while they struggled hand to hand.

Ben wasn’t sure when it happened. When Hux stopped trying to kill him. When Ben stopped feeling like he was fighting for his life. 

When he realized Hux was never going to hurt him. Not really.

Hux had his arms around Ben’s neck, chest to chest. He was reaching for the back of Ben’s t-shirt ready to twist up that goddamn collar choke again, and Ben stood up without thinking about it. Because Hux was smaller. Because Ben had over forty pounds on him. Ben stood up and Hux clung to him, tried to pull him back down. Ben dipped his head. Caught the exact moment when Hux’s eyes changed. When he realized Ben was about to slam him to the ground, drop him onto the concrete floor and crush him under all of Ben’s very solid two hundred pounds. 

He got the t-shirt. Wrapped his arms around Ben’s throat again and tugged. 

Ben met his eyes. He could do it. He could throw them both down. Hux clung closer to minimize the impact,  _ fear  _ flashing in his eyes. And. Resignation. Because it would hurt and from this position there was nothing Hux could do about it except  _ give up _ . And Hux wouldn’t do that. So he braced from impact. 

It never came. 

Ben’s knee struck the ground and dull pain shot through his leg. Then the other. The room was going dim again. 

Hux had won. 

Ben didn’t know when he had wrapped his arms around the other man. He didn’t know why Hux was so close anymore-- if he was pulling in, or if Ben was holding him there. 

Hux’s back hit the floor again. Gently. The pressure at his neck disappeared. 

Hux stared up at him. Ben stared back and waited for the room to come back after the tunnel vision from the choke, but it never did. There was just Hux. 

There was only ever Hux. 

Ben’s voice was hoarse when he spoke. But it was sure. Firm. 

“General.” 

It was Hux, not Ben, who crumpled. Who gasped and leaned up. Who’s hands moved from Ben’s t shirt to his hair to fist in his tangled, sweat-wet curls. Who yanked Ben down and kissed him like he was drowning and he needed the air in Ben’s lungs. He bit Ben’s lip and Ben whined, “I hate you. I fucking hate you.” 

And Hux laughed and whispered against his lips, “‘ So it should be, that none but Antony should conquer Antony.’”

Ben sat back, pulled Hux with him so the other man was in his lap again, legs wrapped around Ben’s waist, hands fisted in Ben’s hair, and Ben said again, “General.” 

Hux sucked in a breath like he was dying, like he couldn’t believe Ben was actually saying it and he bit Ben’s neck and half begged, “Again.”

“General.” 

Hux moaned into his ear and Ben felt all the hair on his body stand on end, felt his cock pulse in his pants, knew Hux could feel it where he was sitting in Ben’s lap and he thought of Anthony Bell. Of his blood rushing from his neck in a beautiful crimson arch. Of how Hux must have looked when he’d done that to so many people before. With his gloves on and his hair pushed out of his eyes and that silver blade in his hand, watching the evil seep from their necks and-- Ben moaned because he was so hard it hurt and Hux was pushing down against him, grinding into him. 

Hux was right. Hux was right about everything. 

He hadn’t put the knife in Ben’s hand. He’d just given Ben permission to pick it up. 

_ So it should be that none but Antony should conquer Antony.  _

Hux was right. 

Bell was dead. And Ben had killed him. 

Ben had killed him. And Ben had liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU, YOU AMAZING INCREDIBLE PEOPLE YOU. 
> 
> The reaction I got for the last chapter was AMAZING and I seriously cannot tell you how much I appreciate all your feedback and every comment. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I adore you all. <3


	12. Hux

“Tell me how you did it,” Ben heard himself gasp into Hux’s ear. Hux’s hand tightened in his hair and Ben felt a shiver run from the spot where Hux was tugging all the way to the tips of his toes. 

“What part?” Hux’s voice was unlike Ben had ever heard it, low and husky and. Uncontrolled. A little wild. 

“All of it. Tell me, Hux. All of it.” Hux chuckled, the sound sharp and a little manic and Ben moaned into the skin at his neck before he bit it. Hux shuddered. “Without ever being seen.” 

“Do you know what a sniper’s primary function is, Benjamin?” 

Ben hummed absently, focused as he was on his hands curling around Hux’s thighs, the tight curve of his ass that he’d  _ never  _ let Ben feel like this before, and belatedly he realized Hux had asked him a question. “Shooting things?” 

Hux pulled his hair, roughly forced his head up so he had to look Hux in the eye and for one delirious moment there was nothing in Ben’s head but  _ yes _ and  _ harder  _ and Hux said, “ _ Reconnaissance,  _ Benjamin. We can sit motionless for hours, even days, on end while we observe a target.” His lips lifted in that smirk and Ben felt himself start to shake like he did before he had to give a press conference. He wanted to lick that smirk off Hux’s face. Or maybe he wanted Hux to stare at him like that all night. “And we can move slowly, silently. I can come within a few feet of most people without them being any the wiser.” The smirk softened indulgently and his hand in Ben’s hair loosened, stroked the loose curls from Ben’s face in a gentle caress. Ben turned his face into Hux’s palm, suddenly desperate for the soft brush of Hux’s fingers when only moments earlier he had been so rough. “People are alarmingly unobservant in their own homes.” 

He snickered. 

No. 

He  _ giggled.  _

_ Holy fuck.  _

Ben’s head was almost blank except for that thought. Because Hux  _ giggling  _ about infiltrating people’s homes so he could  _ fucking slit their throats  _ was, objectively, one of the most terrifying things Ben had ever witnessed.

But.

But Ben’s whole body suddenly shivered and clenched and he reacted like Hux had said the  _ dirtiest,  _ the  _ filthiest  _ thing and  _ what the fuck was wrong with him?  _

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” Ben said softly, totally awed. He’d said it before, but it hadn’t really. Connected. 

Hux’s eyes sparkled. He yanked Ben forward by the fistful of hair, the motion so sudden and violent it took Ben’s breath away,  and whispered, “What does that make you?”

Ben didn’t have an answer for him. He didn’t know. 

Hux released his hair, breathed, “Kiss me,” and Ben didn’t care. How could he? 

He kissed him, tightened his fingers on Hux’s thighs and Hux,  _ Hux,  _ actually moaned. 

“Let me see you,” Ben begged suddenly, breath hot against Hux’s jaw. “Come on, Hux, please, please let me see you.” 

Hux laughed and Ben shivered again because it was the kind of sound he’d never expected Hux to make-- unrestrained and happy and a little amazed, the kind of sound Ben had only ever heard from lovers in quiet intimate places. 

Hux leaned away from him, let his hands fall from Ben’s hair and then said, “Come on. Upstairs.” 

He started to unhook his legs from Ben’s waist but Ben stood up, quick and steady, locked his hands around Hux’s ass, holding him up, and Hux laughed again, twined his arms around Ben’s neck and kissed him. 

Ben’s head was swimming. He wasn’t sure how he was even able to stand upright when Hux was kissing him like that. Warm and passionate and free and he hadn’t quite realized that Hux had never kissed him like this before, that he’d always been holding back just a little. Calculating. 

“End of the hall,” Hux gasped when Ben paused at the top of stairs, eyeing the row of doors (and really Hux’s apartment was a bit ridiculous) as he looked for the way to Hux’s bedroom. 

Ben pushed the door open with his shoulder and his first, overwhelming impression, was of the color red. The walls were vivid scarlet. The duvet on the wrought iron bed was a dark crimson with diagonal stripes a shade darker than the walls. The pillows, the sheets, the furniture and the carpet were all black and Ben felt like he’d stepped into a furnace. Or a blood bath. 

He stumbled toward the bed, set Hux down on the edge and Hux hooked his fingers in Ben’s shirt like he had when they’d been fighting. But this time, Ben lifted his arms and shrugged out of it and-- and-- Hux was all spread out beneath him, hands ceaseless, coasting over his chest and his back and his shoulders, and he was breathing fast and shallow like Ben had never heard from him before and Ben’s mind emptied with the sheer impossibility of it all. That after so long (it felt like  _ so long)  _ Hux was going to let him-- and Hux was gasping and panting and licking up into his mouth when Ben lowered his head and-- and--

“Hux,” Ben breathed, because all the parts of him that used to be good at this were quiet now. “Are we-- ca-can I--” A wave of heat crested over him and he gasped, “ _ Please, can I--” _

“Yes,” Hux hissed out, “Yes, yes, Ben touch me. Now.” 

“Oh, God, oh, fuck, fuck--” His hands were shaking when he brought them to Hux’s collar. 

The shirt was already torn from the fight, the top three buttons hanging open and Ben couldn’t make his big stupid fingers work on the remaining ones, especially since he could  _ see Hux’s chest _ all pale and freckled and  _ flushed  _ with heat and--

He had a tattoo on his chest, on his left pectoral, over his heart. A black and white eagle with a rabbit in its talons. It was exactly the kind of tattoo Ben would expect to find on an ex-soldier, although perhaps not what he would have expected of Hux. He had scars too; a big round one in the center of his left shoulder and a few more neat scratches along that arm. Ben bent forward and licked over the tattoo, felt Hux shudder below him and his legs tighten around Ben’s waist and Ben stopped caring about Hux’s already ruined shirt. He tore the rest of the buttons and pulled back to look because. 

Fuck. 

_ Fuck.  _

Hux was every bit as fit as Ben’s increasingly sordid imagination had led him to believe. He could count every muscle, was actually surprised by the definition, given how slight, how thin and lanky he was. He reminded Ben of a ballet dancer he’d fucked once back in college-- all hard muscle and grace and elegance, tall and lithe and trimmed of anything extraneous. No extra body fat. No unnecessary bulk. Hux was stronger than the dancer had been though. Taller. He didn't have to lean up to kiss Ben when they were standing and his legs around Ben’s waist now were starting to get so tight it hurt.  

“Fuck, Hux, you’re--” Hux sat up and kissed Ben before he could get the thought out, shrugged out of his shirt one sleeve at a time and Ben’s eyes had fluttered closed, relishing the feel of Hux’s hot skin against his, of his hands  _ everywhere  _ and--

Ben opened his eyes because he had to look, he had to, and--

He went very still. Hux kissed his unresponsive lips for a few long seconds before he realized Ben wasn’t moving. Then he pulled away and stared up at Ben, eyes hooded and hot and. Triumphant. 

He had stars tattooed on his shoulders. 

Five on either side in black ink. 

Ben swallowed hard, squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I was right about the stars,” he said. It wasn’t a question. 

Hux nodded. 

“You were ranking them.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you.” Ben cut himself off and lifted his hand from Hux’s waist to trace his fingers along the black marks, so stark against his pale skin. “Five. Five stars.” 

Hux licked his lips and said into the hot air below Ben’s chin, “I’m a bad man.”

Ben’s common sense told him to stop. To step away. To  _ run  _ away. 

And everything Hux had ever said to him ran through his mind all at once.  _ Do you need me to slow down, Detective? I’m just getting started. I find you far more enticing than I thought I would. Maybe this General person is just her way of balancing the scales. The law isn’t perfect. People get away. Bad people.  _ And that had just been the first date. The second time Ben had seen him, he’d. He’d told Ben how he got into the building.  _ If it was me... _

And  _ BB-8 had tried to tell them all _ . But he’d. He’d. Pet her. Made them all think she was just--

Everything. Every second of it had been so well orchestrated. He’d been sure not to push Ben too hard, to drop the seeds and let them sprout on their own. Maybe the General was right. Maybe this was the only way and Ben. Ben had started to believe it.

Maybe he had all along. 

A short bark of disbelieving laughter shot from his lips. Hux had told him when they first met how easy he was to read. Hux had told him. And Ben hadn’t cared because. Because it never occurred to him that while Hux was looking at him, he wasn't staring right back. But he hadn’t been. He’d only seen what Hux wanted him to see. He’d let Hux play him. 

Every memory in his head split into two categories-- the Hux in the mask and the Hux who was staring back at him now. Most of the memories were the former. But there were a few, a few glimpses he’d caught along the way, always with that chill, always with the creeping sensation that he was seeing something he didn’t understand-- the sadness, the  _ disappointment,  _ in Hux’s eyes, when he’d said,  _ He’s ruined Shakespeare for you?  _ The taunting when he’d asked  _ Do you need me to slow down?  _ The way his eyes had sparkled when Ben had  _ laughed this morning  _ after his latest scene. 

His scene. 

Ben fisted his hands in Hux’s hair and yanked him back up, kissed him fiercely because the chilling realization that was settling in his chest was truly intoxicating. 

No one knew him like Hux. 

Hux had looked at him and  _ seen him  _ like no one else ever had. 

“Fuck, Hux,” he breathed against Hux’s lips.

“Fuck me.”

Ben made the loudest, most desperate sound he’d made all night and didn’t care how ridiculous he sounded when he said, “Fuck, fuck, really, baby? You want me to--”

“Yes, you foolish man, yes,” Hux hissed. “I won’t beg you for it if that’s what you want just,  _ fuck--” _

Ben moaned into his neck and dropped his hands to Hux’s slacks, to the hard heat already straining against the fabric and Hux gave a low, half stifled moan. Hux kicked his shoes off, and Ben heard them thud behind him. Ben almost tripped over them when he stepped back to slip out of his own shoes and sweats and Hux didn’t wait for him to finish before he’d pushed his own pants away. 

Ben wanted to stand here and stare at him, memorize every pale inch. 

He wanted to touch him all over. 

He wanted to wrap his lips around the most perfect cock he’d ever seen. 

He settled on the latter.  He enjoyed Hux’s eyes going wide at the sight of him dropping to his knees, but that was all Ben saw. He was too eager, too desperate to taste him to wait and taunt and tease. Hux’s cock was hot and sweet in his mouth and he immediately took all of it, every bit to the back of his throat, fingers digging into Hux’s waist and Ben moaned in contentment when Hux gasped and curled forward, panted, “Oh, fuck, Ben,  _ yes.” _

Ben pulled back, sucked at the tip and felt Hux shudder. Hux bit down on the sound he was making and Ben pulled back just enough to say, “Don’t do that, don’t, let me hear you--” 

And Hux half gasped, half snarled, “Shut up,” before he pushed Ben’s head back down and fell back against the sheets with a sigh to buck at Ben’s lips. 

He was perfect. He tasted perfect and he felt perfect and he fit so perfectly in Ben’s mouth-- just enough that Ben could take all of him and it wasn’t quite too much, just enough that Ben was imagining how Hux would feel inside him and it made him whine with need against Hux’s skin. 

Now that he was here, he wanted to do everything he’d been imagining for weeks. Hux’s choked off gasps were just gaining rhythm, his hands fisting in Ben’s hair, when Ben pulled off and sunk lower, pushed Hux’s knees dangling over Ben’s shoulders up so he could drag his tongue across the tight curl of muscle he found waiting for him and Hux let off a surprised half-shout. Ben grinned to himself, swirled his tongue there, felt Hux clenching and unclenching for him,  _ all for him,  _ and he lingered, desperate for the way Hux was opening for him, for his tongue, and the way Hux was bucking against Ben’s face, pulling Ben’s hair to keep him close. 

Ben hadn’t quite imagined Hux would be like this. He’d  _ hoped  _ once the layer of clothing between them was gone, Hux would be free and loud and just as desperate for Ben as Ben was for him, but Ben had never really thought--

“Your fingers,” Hux gasped-- and even half choking he made it sound like a command. “Use your fingers.” 

Ben was too eager, too desperate and surprised, and all his finesse was replaced with shaking hands and frantic gasps. He used to be good at this. He used to be  _ in control  _ but now--

He pulled away and his hands shook as he pulled the drawer of Hux’s night stand open. Hux took the few moments of reprieve to suck in a frantic breath and Ben fished around until he found a bottle of lube, silently thanking whatever god was watching out for him that Hux actually had lube in his nightstand. 

He also had a few other things that Ben was too dazed to be surprised at, and that sent a thrill of anticipation through him picturing all the ways they might put them to use. 

The first finger slipped in slow and easy and Hux moaned low in his throat. Ben was standing now, so he could watch him, and Hux’s chest was flushed and he had his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw was slack and for one moment, Ben could almost forget that Hux was a monster. 

Almost. But not quite. 

It was a heady sort of feeling, knowing he had the General spread out beneath him, waiting, desperate for his cock, thrashing on Ben’s hand and commanding, “Another, add another,  _ fuck, Benjamin, yes--” _

Hux’s legs started to go limp over Ben’s elbows when Ben curled light fingers around the head of Hux’s cock at the same time that he pushed in a third finger. Hux’s hands fisted in the sheets and he pushed back on Ben’s hand and made the first truly unrestrained sound he’d made all night. 

Ben felt it like a shiver from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, slowed his probing fingers and tried to coax it out again. And again. 

The head of Hux’s perfect cock was glistening with a bead of precome and he moaned again when Ben traced his thumb over it, dragged it down the underside of his dick. “Good, good, fuck, Benjamin, That’s. So good.” His accent was getting thicker-- it wasn’t a subtle lilt anymore, only noticeable if you were looking for it. If he’d talked to Ben like this the first time they’d met, Ben wouldn’t have had any trouble placing it. 

He wanted to tell Hux to keep talking, to talk louder, because it was  _ gorgeous  _ but Hux’s eyes had sparked and flared with anger every time Ben had mentioned the way he spoke in the past and Ben knew he’d clamp his lips together and not say another word if he brought it up here and now. 

Ben didn’t remember adding a forth finger, but Hux was hot and open for him and he couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t imagine one more second without feeling Hux so tight around him and his voice was low and quiet when he said, “Hux. I want. Are you. Can I--”

“Yes, yes, come on, Ben.”

The room suddenly got very quiet when Ben lined himself up. He was holding his breath. Hux was staring at him, taking short, shallow breaths with his fingers curled in his silky duvet. Ben’s fingers were slick with lube, leaving shiny streaks along Hux’s narrow hips. It was dripping down Hux’s thighs and from the head of Ben’s cock and Ben couldn’t remember when he’d done that-- when he’d slicked more than the tips of his fingers.

At the first press, Hux’s eyes rolled back and his breath sped up and Ben was gripping Hux’s hips so hard his hands were trembling. He was going to leave bruises and he was reminded forcibly of the first time he’d laid eyes on Hux, of thinking that his pretty pale skin would bruise like a peach if Ben just--

Hux pushed back against him, drove Ben deeper, and Ben choked on his air, pulled Hux even closer until their hips were finally flush and Ben felt like the room was spinning until he looked at Hux’s face. At the way Hux was biting his lips, throat working as he sucked in quiet breaths, his eyes rolling back in his head and Ben shifted, pulled back just so he could push back in and watch Hux--

Hux crumbled. A broken moan leached from his lips and his whole body clenched and it was  _ so tight  _ and  _ so hot  _ and Ben thought the desperate gasps were Hux but they weren’t, it was all Ben and Hux was, Hux was  _ saying his name.  _

Ben stepped away from the bed, dragged Hux with him so his hips were hanging off the bed and Ben could push up into him and Hux was shouting, fisting his hands in his own hair and Ben had never, never, never dared hope he’d ever see Hux this wrecked. 

Ben’s chest started to burn with all the air he wasn’t quite getting. There was an obnoxious, rhythmic jingling cutting through Hux’s gasps and Ben’s outright moans and Ben realized dimly it was the handcuffs, still dangling from his right wrist, completely forgotten.

Ben peered down at his own wrist and the sight of the silver metal sent a thrill of heat through him, remembering the way Hux had slapped it around his wrist, how Hux had wrapped his arms and legs around Ben and squeezed, forced Ben to his knees and now, he was. Ben was--

“So good, Ben, so  _ good,  _ fuck, so--”

Ben laughed, a short gruff sound and the words bubbled up before he could stop them, hitching in his throat with the motion of his hips. “Tell me, tell me you love it, say it.” Hux made a short sound of disbelief and Ben said, “Come on say it, you love my cock, say it--”

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Hux hissed. 

“Come on, baby, please--”

“I’ll say no such thing--”

“Please, General, sir, tell me, tell me--”

Hux shuddered, moaned, then said again, “ _ Shut up--” _

But Ben was still talking, begging, “Tell me you love my--”

“ _ Mine,”  _ Hux hissed, jerking up on the bed and throwing his arms around Ben’s neck. “You’re mine, every inch of you, every fiber, every--  _ fuck, fuck, oh-- every piece, say it--” _

“All yours,” Ben breathed against his lips. He was falling apart. He couldn’t hold back anymore and he was-- “Yes, Hux. I’m yours, I’m--”

His words trailed away, grew into a shout that rose and crested when Hux ground down against him and he came with a shiver that made his whole body pulse, made his toes curl in the thick plush carpet and before it had fully left him, Hux was pulling away, faster than he should have and Ben tried to hold him close, tried to make his lips work enough to tell Hux to slow down so he wouldn’t hurt himself, but then Hux was hissing, “On the bed, get on the bed, do it now.” 

Ben pulled himself up even though his muscles didn’t quite want to work. Hux pushed him flat, left his hand on Ben’s lower back and Ben tried to turn to look at him until he said, “Lift up your hands.” 

Hux looped the handcuffs through the iron headboard. Closed the second bracelet around Ben’s left wrist. Ben shivered. “Oh, fuck, Hux.” 

“This is what you’ve wanted, isn’t it?” Hux was moving around on the bed and Ben couldn’t see him. He grabbed Ben’s ankle and Ben felt a soft cuff curl there. Hux pulled something and Ben’s leg wouldn’t move anymore, stuck to the bed with a set of restraints Ben tried not to think too hard about. Who else might Hux have used these with?

Hux did the same to his other leg and Ben couldn’t move. 

“This is what you want?” he said again. “Spread out, waiting for me to use you.”

“Yes,” Ben breathed and didn’t know how he could possibly be this turned on when he’d just come. It almost didn’t seem fair. 

“What do you want? Tell me.”

Ben sighed into the pillows, head too loud to pick anything out until Hux laid his hand on Ben’s thigh just below his ass cheek and squeezed. “Tell me, Benjamin.”

“Your nightstand,” Ben heard himself moan almost against his will. “You’ve got--”

Hux chuckled coldly, and Ben felt him shift and reach for the drawer. 

In his search for the lube, Ben had passed over things made of leather and things made of glass, something that vibrated and something that pinched. 

He craned his head around, trying to see what Hux was fishing for. 

Hux caught him, looked over his shoulder and gave Ben a vicious grin when he said, “No,” and altered the path of his hand. Ben scowled when Hux pulled back holding a black blindfold. 

Ben made a furious sound in the back of his throat and said, “Come on, Hux, I’m already face down, I can’t see shit. Hardly.” 

Hux wasn’t deterred. He looped the silk over Ben’s forehead, drenched the room in darkness, and said, “Don’t argue. It’s not the slightest bit appealing.”

“Ass.”

Hux slapped him for his troubles, with the tips of his fingers across Ben’s left ass cheek and Ben huffed and clenched at the sting of heat.

Hux chuckled. Hit him again. Ben’s thighs quivered from the light touch, from the anticipation, remembering the last time Hux had used his hands like that. 

Hux said, “Whore.” 

A half-surprised, half-hysterical breath of laughter jumped from Ben’s lips and he asked, “What did you just call me?”

“Whore,” Hux enunciated and accented the word with a single hot finger tracing from the base of Ben’s spine down between his cheeks and Ben groaned softly, tried to lift his hips to give Hux a better angle-- “Look at you. So desperate for me that you-- and you know, you know what I am and you still-- who am I, Benjamin?”

Ben had his eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold, trying to hold himself steady, trying not to show Hux what his words were doing to him. Hux slapped him again and he said, “A fucking sadist?” He spoke through gritted teeth-- not because Hux had hurt him, but because it was all so much-- the handcuffs holding his arms above his head, the soft cuffs at his ankles holding his legs open-- holding  _ him  _ open-- and the blindfold and Hux could do  _ anything, whatever he wanted  _ and there wasn’t a damn thing Ben could do about it. 

Except Ben knew when he spoke what would happen. Hux hit him, hard, and he arched his back, pressed his forehead to the pillows. 

“Who am I?” 

“A monster.” Hux slapped him.

“Who am I?”

“ _ Fuck, _ killer. You’re a--” Hux hit him again, and Ben gasped.

“Who am I?”

“The General,” Ben said finally, backside tingling and thighs starting to quiver again.

Hux hit him again. “Who am I?”

“What?”

“Who am I?” 

“I don’t-- ow, fuck, that one--  _ ow.” _

“Who am I?”

“Hux,” Ben gasped into the pillow, clenched his fists in the cuffs and waited for the slap he knew was coming. 

It never came. 

Ben blinked behind the black silk. 

Hux’s voice, when it came, was odd. And soft. “What am I?” 

“Mine,” Ben hissed without hesitating. “Mine.” 

Hux’s hand, when it landed on the curve of Ben’s ass, was soft. Gentle. Ben shuddered, a quiver that started deep in his abdominals and spread to his chest and ass and thighs and--

Hux was pulling away, shifting around behind Ben and he started rummaging in the drawer again. 

Ben jerked hard against the restraints when Hux squeezed a stream of cold lube into the crack of his ass. And then Hux was pressing something cold and slick into him, slow and steady and Ben released the breath he was holding when he felt himself start to open for Hux. Hux. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ he gasped into the pillows lifted his hips again and a picture flashed into his head-- the ridged, clear glass plug he’d passed over when he’d been looking for the lube. It was angled and perhaps just a little larger than the few plugs Ben had had experience with in the past and the slow, torturous stretch was making his head swim. But Hux was being gentle, letting the lube and the slick glass do all the work and--

“Relax,” Hux said gently, far too much amusement in his voice. Ben was pulling against the handcuffs, holding his breath, and he released himself with a loud moan. The plug settled into place, the tip resting against  _ the most perfect spot _ and-- Ben hissed into the pillow when Hux tapped it twice, set every nerve on fire and Ben said, “Fuck, fuck do that again, do it--”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“Please, Hux. Please.”

“No.”

Ben pressed his face into the pillow and half sobbed, “Please--”

Hux slapped him again and Ben  _ screamed.  _ Because the surprise swat made his whole body clench, made him close around all the little ridges in the plug, made it move inside him and tap that spot, and it was only one short moment of overwhelming sensation, but when it ended, Ben was huffing into the pillow and he was fully hard again, cock pressed almost painfully to his stomach and leaving little wet spots when he shifted. 

Hux said, “I bought this for you,” and laid something wide and hard and cushioned with leather against both of Ben’s ass cheeks. 

Ben lifted his head from the pillow because he couldn’t breath., he couldn’t and, Hux--

“You tried to tackle me down there, you know.” The first swat was soft. Just enough to make the plug shift inside him. Just enough that he whimpered imagining  _ more.  _ “You  _ stuck a gun in my face.” _ The second was harder. Ben sucked in a breath. “What do you say.”

“I don’t--” The third made him yelp. “ _ Fuck.” _

“What do you say, Benjamin?” 

“Sorry.” The weight of the paddle was getting heavier. It was worse than Hux’s hand, blunter, deeper, and covered more space. He couldn’t close his legs or roll away. He was stuck. 

“What was that?” Hux replied to every answer Ben gave with another swat, each heavier than the last, and Ben moaned into the pillow because it  _ hurt  _ but then the plug would shift and move, knocked forward by the leather-covered wood and he was just  _ stuck. _

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Hux, I’m--  _ oh, god, oh, fuck--” _

“Sorry.”

“Yes--” Hux hit him again and the sound of it filled the room, reverberated in Ben’s head, and-- “ _ Fuck, yes.” _

Hux was quiet, but the rhythmic sting of the paddle didn’t cease or slow. 

Ben gasped for air. He couldn’t breath and he wasn’t sure he wanted too. He was thrashing uselessly against the restraints, tugging at the handcuffs and twisting his legs. 

It wasn’t like before. Hux was hitting him  _ hard  _ and he  _ dreaded  _ the fall of the paddle except he didn’t because it shifted the plug forward in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that  _ wasn’t enough  _ but he couldn’t stand the thought Hux hitting him faster, but he  _ needed  _ him to--

“ _ Oh, fuck, Hux, please, god, please--” _

“Please what?”

“I don’t-- I can’t--  _ ow, fuck, fuck--” _

Hux was laughing at him.  _ Laughing.  _

“ _ Fuck you--”  _ That earned him the hardest smack yet and he buried his face into the pillow and whimpered, his head too full. He couldn’t decide if he should beg Hux to stop or to hit him harder or faster or-- “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.”

His thighs were shaking. His abs were clenching and unclenching without his permission. His backside was hot and burning, but the muscles there didn’t seem to want to work anymore, had gone soft and pliant, and he realized he was breathing into the pillow, had stopped thrashing, was lying still waiting for the next blow to fall. 

Hux was enjoying himself. Ben could practically taste it-- and it wasn’t like before when he’d told Ben what to do and Ben had listened, it wasn’t that kind of enjoyment. He liked having Ben all spread out, liked  _ hurting  _ him and he could, couldn’t he? Ben had let Hux tie him up. Ben couldn’t  _ get away.  _ “You could kill me.” 

“Yes.”

“You could do whatever you want to me.” 

“Yes.”

“Hurt me.”

“You killed a man. You  _ deserve  _ it.” 

“Yes, yes, I do, I deserve it. I--  _ oh, fuck--  _ yes, I--  _ Hux, god Hux, harder, please-- _ ”

“ _ Fuck.” _

The sound of Hux’s voice like that send a terrible thrill through him and Hux could do  _ anything,  _ Ben would let him do  _ anything  _ if only he would say Ben’s name like that-- “Please, Hux, please, harder, I deserve it, yes, please--”

“Fucking Christ, Ben, do you have any idea. How. Perfect. Benjamin.”

Ben was wailing into the pillow, lifting his hips for Hux, just for Hux, so Hux could see what he’d done and--

A horrible grating buzz filled the air and Ben jerked so hard the headboard-- the heavy wrought iron headboard-- shifted and slammed into the wall. 

“ _ What. The fuck--”  _ Hux snapped furiously and leaned away from Ben. Ben gasped into the pillow as Hux did something and snapped, “ _ What?” _

“Uh, Mr. Hux, this is Pat with security--” Hux made a livid sound, and Ben tried to turn his head as a deep voice came ringing from the nightstand. Hux had a little box there, mounted to the wall, just below the light; Ben had noticed it when they first came in.

“ _ What?” _

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Hux, it’s just that Mrs. Jefferson downstairs said she heard some noise, said it sounded like someone was fighting and then some yelling and she was worried, see, since you’re so quiet and we thought we’d just check--”

“Tell Mrs. Jefferson to mind her own goddamn business!” Hux’s voice was high pitched and angry and  _ angry  _ and Ben heard a half hysterical giggle escape his own lips because  _ fuck  _ how did he manage to sound so  _ hot  _ when he was so livid?

“Yes, sir. It’s just that--”

Ben had had enough. He lifted his head and said loudly around a moan that was only half fake, “Hux, baby, turn that thing off and come fuck me.”

Hux snapped, “You keep your mouth shut!” as Pat with Security made a spluttering noise that sounded too loud over the intercom. Hux said curtly, “I’m busy. Leave me alone or find a new job,” and pressed another button. The room was quiet. Ben hoped he’d turned the damn thing off. 

Hux was breathing hard. So was Ben. 

“Please,” Ben said again. 

Hux shifted forward and Ben shouted when he taped the plug again. And again. And again.

The fucking, the spanking, the tapping, it was all too damn much. Ben could feel that tight pull in his belly again, the horrible, wonderful desperation that Hux had managed to bring out in him that first night, the pulsing need for  _ more _ , the hysterical knowledge that he couldn’t take anymore than he already had, and the dissonance between the two. 

The motion of the plug had done more than Ben had realized. He was already  _ so close,  _ so desperate for rhythm that just wouldn’t come. Even Hux’s tapping was sporadic, light touches mixed with heavy, no real rhythm, and in what felt like seconds and hours all rolled up Ben was wailing again, “Hux, Hux, please, Hux, fuck, I can’t, I’m going to, I can’t, fuck, shit--” and all number of other ridiculous things that he couldn’t stop from spilling from his mouth but which only seemed to make Hux more invested in his torture. Twice he slapped Ben on the ass with his bare hand and Ben’s vision went white behind the blindfold. 

“Hold still.”

“ _ I, shit, fuck-- what?” _

“Hold  _ still.”  _

Ben tried to comply but his muscles didn’t want to listen to him. If he managed to make his arms go still, his legs jumped and shook. And he couldn't stop the tremors in his abs and the heaving of his chest. 

Hux had curled his fingers around the base of the plug, was tugging and twisting it and Ben didn’t know how he was supposed to  _ hold still  _ when Hux was  _ doing that.  _ “I can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry, fuck, Hux,  _ shit--” _

Ben yelled again and the plug was pulling free, all the little ridges setting electric jolts down his legs and over his burning ass as they passed. 

Before he could catch his breath, Hux was pushing into him, cock hot and slicked, but he was bigger than the plug and longer and moving just a little too fast, pressing inside and Ben choked out a gasp that was drowned out by Hux’s voice when Hux said, “ _ Fuck, yes.”  _

He wasn’t going to last long. Not like this. The realization hit him with a surge of shame, because he’d already come once tonight and he hadn’t exactly put on the greatest show as far as his stamina was concerned. But it was  _ Hux. Hux  _ was  _ inside  _ him and he couldn’t remember wanting anybody as much as he wanted Hux, wanting anything as much as he’d wanted any of this and it wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t fair. “Hux.  _ Shit _ , I’m gonna, I don’t think--”

“You’re gonna what?” Hux snapped, just as breathless and still managing to sound pissed about it. 

“Come. I’m gonna come, I’m--”

“ _ No,”  _ Hux barked and Ben moaned into the pillow again. He was merciless, driving his hips ruthlessly, setting a pounding rhythm that was the most wonderful kind of torture after the slow pulse of the plug. “I didn’t say you could.”

Ben bit his own tongue so hard he tasted blood. “ _ Please,  _ Hux.” He couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t stop it. 

Hux smacked him again, made spots dance in front of his eyes. “I said ‘ _ no.’  _ Are you going to  _ disappoint me,  _ Benjamin?” 

“No.”

“What? I can’t hear you. Get your face out of the pillow.” 

“No.” 

“Good. Good, Ben. Fuck. Good. You’re. Fuck.” 

Ben could hear Hux’s voice getting higher, breathier, his accent heavier. He had his hands on Ben’s hips, was pulling Ben back as he pounded in, hitting  _ every possible place _ and Ben screamed in frustration, had to put every ounce of his failing willpower into keeping himself from being a  _ disappointment. _ His wrists were getting sore. He focused on that, put all his attention on that pain, so he wouldn’t have to think about his desperate cock straining against the duvet, at the friction there from all Ben’s weight bearing down as Hux dragged him back and forth across the covers. 

“Good, Benjamin, you’re doing so good. So good for me--  _ fuck--”  _

Ben ground his teeth into the pillow, whimpered, “Hux, please.”

Hux lifted his hand from Ben’s hip. Curled it in Ben’s hair and  _ pulled.  _ Ben make a high pitched, stuttering sound, desperate and throaty, and Hux jerked against him, gasped, loud, and choked out, “Yes, Ben, yes.”

Ben came, sobbing into the pillow, and it was Hux’s turn to moan as Ben clenched around him, drawing out shudder after shudder as Ben desperately pushed back on him. 

Hux collapsed, panting for air, on Ben’s back, hand still tangled in Ben’s curls. 

Ben whimpered at the weight, at the feel of soft skin and hard muscle bearing down on his sore ass cheeks but didn’t have the strength or presence of mind to try to shift or move. 

Hux tugged at the blindfold first and Ben didn’t move, except for the way his stomach muscles kept clenching. It was making him cold. 

When Hux finally pulled away, Ben wanted to yell for him to come back, to leave his dick where it was and put his chest on Ben’s back again, but he couldn’t seem to make his lips work. 

Hux rummaged around in the drawer and emerged with a handcuff key. That was good. Ben’s was still downstairs and he didn’t want Hux to leave to go get it. His arms dropped to the pillows, one wrist still trailing a handcuff. Hux lifted it away, made a distressed sound at Ben’s limp hand in his, and then curled his long fingers around Ben’s wrist. Hux’s hands were cool. He started rubbing Ben’s wrist between his palms, kneading his forearm and palm. Ben hadn’t realized how numb his hands had gotten, stretched just above his head, and straining against the cuffs as he had been. “You should have told me these were too tight. You’re going to have bruises. Ben. Ben? Are you alright?” His voice sounded nice, all throaty and hoarse and still a little more Irish than usual. He said ‘tight’ with extra vowels. ‘Toight.’ “Ben,” he snapped sharply, and his hands fell to Ben’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

“Mmm,” Ben hummed.

“You didn’t answer me. Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, baby.” 

“You’re shivering.”

“’s cold.”

Hux moved without speaking, unclipped the cuffs at Ben’s ankles, then said, “Get under the covers.”

With a gargantuan effort, Ben managed to roll onto his back. “You too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Ben hummed again. “Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never?”

Hux made a strange sound in the back of his throat, put both his hands on Ben’s cheeks and brought his face so close to Ben’s, their noses were almost touching. “Never. Never anywhere without you, do you understand me?”

Ben put one of his hands on Hux’s wrist. 

“Okay.”

Hux stared at him for a long time. Ben found it entirely unnerving how pleasant it was, having Hux’s eyes locked on his face like that. He dozed, hand curled loosely around Hux’s, head heavy on the pillow. Hux started rubbing his wrists again and he sighed in utter contentment. 

That was wrong. He shouldn’t be so at ease in bed with a serial killer. 

He didn’t realize Hux had moved until he smelled smoke. Hux was stretched beside him now, on top of the covers, one hand still absently tracing the veins in Ben’s wrist. 

“You smoke?” He tried to sound amazed, but his voice only came out sounding slightly amused. He peeked out at Hux from under his lashes and saw Hux turn his head lazily, cigarette dangling from his lips and smoke curling through the shadows above his head. Hux shrugged one shoulder. 

“Sometimes.” 

Ben could tell from the smell-- Marlboro Reds. The pack and white lighter on the nightstand at Hux’s side confirmed his theory. “You never smell like smoke.” 

“It’s a rare indulgence.”

“Gimme one.” 

“ _ You  _ smoke?” Hux asked in amusement, reaching for the pack. Then he frowned and amended, “Cigarettes, that is.” 

Ben smirked. “A rare indulgence. I like Reds.” 

Hux shook a cigarette from the pack, stuck it between Ben’s lips, and held the lighter for him. The smoke was heavy and fragrant and Ben sighed before shifting on the bed-- very carefully-- and sliding closer to Hux. 

Hux saw. 

“Roll over.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Lay on your stomach.” 

Ben frowned. “Baby, I’m  _ tired _ \--”

Hux cut him off with a breath of amused laughter. “You keep calling me that.” 

“So?”

“I. No one’s ever called me that.” 

“Really?” 

“No.”

“I can. Stop. If you want.” 

“No. It’s. I like it. It’s nice.” 

Ben grinned lazily. “Good.” 

  
  


~~~

  
  


Hux left the bed. 

It was dark in the room. Hux had thick curtains that blocked out all the light. Ben didn’t move, but he opened the eye that was hidden behind a tangled dark curl so he could watch. He never saw Hux like this. Hux almost always managed to wake up before Ben, and get out of bed before Ben, shower and change, if he was so inclined, before Ben could even open his eyes. 

It was different now. Hux was naked. His feet hit the floor and Ben almost told him to come back. It was still early. He could feel it. 

Hux had laid with him until he fell asleep, had rubbed feeling back into his arms, and then massaged his shoulders with strong, sure hands until Ben stopped shaking. Had even crawled under the covers and rubbed cool lotion into Ben’s paddle-abused skin. Had held him. All night.

Ben felt like he should have had nightmares; he’d murdered a man.

But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly. 

Hux had his back to the bed. Still naked, he stretched his arms above his head, then bent at the waist, reached for his toes, and wasn't  _ that  _ a nice view? He had a routine, Ben realized. He moved through some stretches before he dropped to the ground. Ben could just barely see him over the edge of the bed. He was doing push ups-- first with both hands spread in the traditional manner, then with each arm separately, then with his thumbs and fingers touching in a diamond pattern. Then he rolled over to do crunches and leg lifts and by the time he was done, a healthy sheen of sweat was sticking his ginger hair to his pale freckle-y forehead. 

“Do you do this every morning?” Ben asked when Hux finally stood back up. Hux jumped a little. 

“You’re awake.”

“Mhm.”

“Yes. I skip every fourth day.”

“That how you stay so sexy?”

Hux smirked. “This is just a warm-up. I have a gym downstairs. And a personal trainer who comes by most evenings.”

“Fancy.”

“How do you stay fit?”

“Gym,” Ben shrugged. “Few times a week.” He grinned. “I lift.”

Hux snorted in amusement. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

“Come back to bed.” 

“I’m taking a shower,” Hux replied, swinging his right arm over his chest in a stretch as he spoke. “I feel filthy.”

Ben grinned at him. “You are filthy.”

“Very funny.” But he was smiling. 

“Can I come?”

“Come where?”

“The shower.”

Hux stared at him. Ben sat up in bed. Hux looked almost non-plussed by the idea. “I. Em.”

“Haven’t you ever showered with anybody?”

“No,” Hux said firmly. 

“What do you mean,  _ no?  _ You’ve had boyfriends-- or. Girlfriends?--”

“No.”

“I mean other people. Other guys. I mean,” Ben added grudgingly, looking toward the nightstand. “Why else do you have all that stuff.”

Hux’s brows shot to his hairline. “I bought that for  _ you.” _

“No, I know. You got. The thing. But the other stuff the restraints and the blind fold--”

Hux was nodding incredulously. “I don’t bring people back to my house, Ben. You’re the only person who has ever been in my room.”

Ben gaped at him. “You. But you’ve  _ fucked  _ other people--”

“Of course.”

“And you’ve used that. Stuff before… Like, stuff like it. Maybe not  _ that exact  _ stuff--”

“Ben, on the rare occasion I brought someone back to my home, I used a guest bedroom. My romantic experience consists of a list of very uninteresting bodies whose faces I can barely recall.” He lifted his chin. “I bought these things  _ for you.  _ For  _ us. _ ” He shrugged one shoulder and Ben felt like his chest was going to burst. “I’ve never had this with anyone.”

Ben was staring at him. Practically gaping at him, eyes wide. He thought of Hux, rubbing feeling back into his arms, gripping his cheeks and saying, ‘never’, and ‘ _ so good, Ben, yes,’  _ and Ben said, “Me neither.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me, Ben. I know you’ve had partners--”

“Not like this,” Ben said, voice thick. “Not even. Not even Poe. Not like this. Not like you.” And then, “No one knows me like you do.”

Hux blinked at him. Stared silently for a long time. Then he said, “Yes.”

“What?”

“You can. We can. Take a shower.”

Ben grinned and crawled out of bed. 

Hux had the biggest shower Ben had ever seen. It was a literal room lined in slate with a glass door and four heads pointing toward the middle. Ben whistled. “How. How much money do you actually have?”

“Enough.”

“Enough for what?” 

Hux gave him a dark, amused look. “Enough.” 

Ben watched him turn the knobs. Test the water. It was Saturday. It was only Saturday. Last night at the bar felt like so far away. 

Last night he’d murdered a man.

Hux stepped under the stream, let the water fall over his pale skin and turn his hair dark. Ben stared at the tattoo on his bicep, the one Ben had glimpsed before, when Hux cuffed his sleeves. It was simple. Two thick black bars lined in silver. Ben had no idea what it meant, but the black ink moving over the bulge of his muscle was beautiful. Beautiful. 

“Come on.” Hux held out his wet hand and Ben grasped it. 

Then he stepped under the hot water, let it send the sweat and tears and come, and, if Ben was being honest with himself, very probably at least a little blood swirling away down the drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo somehow this chapter became literally NOTHING but sex and I'm a garbage person I hope you all are happy I did it for you
> 
> Also, I finished the first draft of the last chapter tonight and I am FLOATING. I've never completed a project this big before and seriously thank you all for reading and commenting because you have motivated me SO MUCH.


	13. Fallout

Hux’s intercom buzzed. He kissed Ben on the cheek, said, “I’ll see to that,” and left Ben standing in the massive bathroom, toweling his hair dry. Hux spoke into the intercom, but Ben couldn’t hear what was being said. Then Hux stepped out into the hallway. 

Curiosity got the better of him. He tied a towel around his waist, grabbed a second to sling over his shoulders and catch the drips from his hair, and followed Hux out of the bedroom. 

He opened the door just in time to hear Phasma’s voice, low and furious, say, “In his  _ apartment _ , Hux?”

Ben closed the door to the bedroom. 

“This is none of your business.” 

“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? You’ve fucked up  _ everything,  _ he’s already got IA on his back and now we  _ have  _ to look at him for Bell’s murder.”

“You honestly think a detective would kill a man in his own apartment?”

“We  _ have  _ to look at him, Hux. Of course, no one actually thinks-- but we have to because of sheer proximity! I can’t  _ believe--”  _

She stopped speaking abruptly when she looked up and saw Ben padding silently down the stairs. 

“Ben!” she gasped. Then she tried to school her face into something less guilty. “Are you-- how are you feeling?” 

“You knew.” 

“I-- what?” Her throat was working, eyes cloudy and dark.

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” 

“I--” Then her expression cleared and she turned and looked at Hux. “ _ You told him _ ?”

Hux quirked an eyebrow. 

“How long?” Ben demanded, fury crawling down his spine and curling his fingers. “All along? The whole time?” 

Phasma ground her teeth. Then she snapped, “Of course I knew.” Ben huffed incredulously. “We gave him that nickname. ‘General.’ In the field. That’s why he has the tattoos! The whole damn unit called him that when the higherups weren’t around to get pissed about it. Cause when shit hits the fan no one else is better at keeping his shit together. You know how many times Hux saved my life out there? How many times he saved the whole fucking squadron?”

“What’s he got on you?” 

Phasma took a menacing step forward and said, “ _ Excuse me?”  _ But Hux huffed in amusement. 

“Oh, please, Phasma. You expect me to believe  _ Hux  _ doesn’t have a contingency plan? What’s he got on you? Why are you covering for him?”

“I just  _ told  _ you why--”

“Phasma,” Hux said, voice light and cold.

Phasma’s teeth squealed together again. “Gun running, alright?” she hissed. 

“Gun running.”

“Yeah. Shit from evidence that no one will miss. And. I’ve got a few. Connects who like me to move some product every now and then.” 

Ben shook his head. “You’ve been stalling the investigation.”

“There was nothing to  _ stall.”  _

“No,” Ben said with dawning realization. He turned to Hux. “She was just.”

Hux nodded. “There to catch anything that slipped through the cracks.” 

“Down to the last detail,” Ben said in admiration. Hux smirked at him. 

“You.  _ Fuck, Ben.  _ What’s  _ wrong  _ with you?”

“What?” 

“You know. You know what Hux. And you’re still.” She blinked. “He  _ killed someone in your apartment.”  _

Ben tilted his head as he stared at her. Glanced at Hux. Hux nodded once, the motion short and curt. Ben said, “No, he didn’t.” 

“What do you  _ mean, ‘ _ no, he’--” Her hand flew to her mouth. Hux’s smirk sharpened. “ _ You.” _

“Me.” 

“ _ Ben.”  _

Ben shrugged. Dragged the towel on his shoulders over his head. Phasma stared at him in the deafening silence. Then she said softly, “I thought you were one of the good ones.”

Ben scowled at her. “Nope. I guess I’m just like you.”

“I didn’t  _ kill  _ anyone--”

“No?” Ben asked. 

“ _ No.”  _

“Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night.” 

“And how did  _ you  _ sleep last night?” she hissed. 

Ben shrugged. Grinned with one side of his mouth. “Like a baby.” 

Phasma made a sound of disgust. “I was wrong. You two deserve each other.” 

“Oh, come, Phasma,” Hux said cheerfully. “Aren’t you going to tell Ben your role in all this? Really, I couldn’t have done it without you.” A muscle in her jaw slid. 

“You mean aside from making sure you knew exactly what was going on in the investigation?” Ben prodded. His heart was sprinting in his chest for all his casual responses. Phasma had known.  _ The whole. Fucking. Time.  _

Part of him wanted to punch her. 

The other part couldn’t blame her. Because  _ Hux. _

“Phasma. Tell him.” Phasma glared at Hux. Then at Ben. Then at Hux again. “Come on, Phas. He wants to know,” Hux taunted. 

“I gave him the names,” she said finally. 

Ben stared. “The. Names.” 

“As I said, Phasma was imperative to this whole operation. I couldn't have done it without her. She told me who to go after, who the law couldn’t handle without a little help.” 

“All those people. How did you know--?”

“I just gave him bread crumbs,” Phasma hissed. “He followed the trail. He made sure they  _ deserved  _ it. Half the names I gave him didn’t pan out.” 

“Pan out?” Ben prodded. 

Hux shrugged. “Weren’t worth my time. Or. Still had a good chance of being arrested and convicted.” 

Ben nodded. His head was still spinning.  _ Phasma  _ had  _ known.  _ “Anyone else I should know about?” Ben asked Hux, voice clipped. 

“No. It’s a very small operation.” He smiled. “Safer that way.” 

“Smart,” Ben conceded. 

“They want to question you both,” Phasma said loudly. “At the station. I came to warn you. So you can give a statement.”

“Would you like me to call my lawyer?” Hux asked, looking at Ben. 

Ben shook his head. “It’s fine. I can give a statement.”

“Are you sure?” 

Ben grinned at him. “Still think I’m terrible at poker?” 

“Undoubtedly.” 

“ _ What is wrong with you two?”  _ Phasma half-screamed. “You. You’re just.” 

“You want me to be  _ sorry,  _ Phasma?” Ben demanded. “Should I dig up the photos from Bell’s last scene so you can see what he did to those poor girls? You want me to be  _ sorry  _ that bastard got was what was coming to him?”

“Ben. You  _ murdered  _ someone--”

“He  _ deserved it.”  _ Ben’s lip curled as he stared at her, fury sparking in his eyes and a strange, twisty sensation tying his stomach in knots. “A General death was too good for him.” 

Phasma shook her head. Swallowed hard. “We need to go.”

“I’ll get dressed.” 

 

~~~

  
  


Phasma didn’t say a word the whole way to the station. Hux had said he’d meet them there soon, that he had some errands to run. Ben didn’t want to talk to Phasma and he was regretting not waiting until Hux was ready and just riding with him. It wasn’t until Phas parked her silver pickup and glanced down at his hands folded in his lap that she muttered, “What happened to your wrists?”

Ben turned and looked at her. Raised his brows. She blinked, shook her head, and put the truck in park. 

The room felt terribly tense when Ben stepped inside. They were all bustling about, shouting questions and orders to one another. And.

Rey seemed to be in charge. Even though Phasma was lead on the case without Ben, it was Rey who everyone looked to, who yelled the most orders as they all worked, commanding Mitaka and Wexley to review the security footage from Ben’s building  _ one more time,  _ telling Poe to take a look at these photos again, since he knew Ben’s apartment best, make sure nothing seemed out of place, telling Finn to look into the footage they pulled from the bank across the street. She had everything covered. Every detail. 

Cold chills rose on Ben’s neck. And his gut twisted.

Rey.

“Oh, Ben!” she said loudly when she finally turned around and saw him. “You’re here.” Ben nodded. “I’ll take your statement.”

“Shouldn’t Phasma--”

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” she said dismissively, sinking into her desk chair. She motioned to the chair she’d pulled up beside it. “Sit.” 

Ben sat. 

“How ya doing?”

“I’m fine, Rey.”

“Are you sure? You look kinda. Jittery.”

“You found a dead body in my apartment; of course I’m jittery!” Ben snapped. 

“Sorry. Okay,” she breathed, and picked up a notepad and pen. Ben tried not to glare at her. “Tell me what happened. From the top.” 

So Ben told her what she needed to hear. “I came home from the bar. The door was broken from. A. Previous. Incident,” he said carefully. “And something seemed. Off. So I drew my weapon--”

“Your personal weapon?”

“Yes. I don’t have my service weapon at the moment--”

“What do you mean something seemed off?”

“I smelled blood,” Ben said, a little too quickly. 

“Smelled blood.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“You didn’t say that last night.”

Ben shrugged with one shoulder. Forced himself not to grind his teeth in annoyance. “I was a little out of it last night.” At least that wasn’t a lie. 

Rey nodded. 

“Then what?”

“Then I saw him. There was. There was blood everywhere and he was just. He was still bleeding.” This was good. Ben could do this. “I checked his pulse, but he was already dead.”

“He was still bleeding but you didn’t try to revive him?”

“All his blood was on the floor,” Ben scoffed. “Wouldn’t have helped if I did.”

“Then what?”

“I called nine-one-one.”

Rey blinked at him. “ _ You  _ called nine-one-one?”

“I mean we did. Hux did,” Ben said quickly. He tried not to smirk when Rey nodded and seemed satisfied. Ben knew why. Witnesses always confused small details the day after. Because finding a body was confusing and terrifying and it fucked with your head.

It would be stranger if Ben’s story was too neat. Too tidy. 

“When did Hux arrive?” Rey asked carefully. 

Ben shrugged. “A few minutes after me. He walked in as I was checking his pulse.” 

“Did he seem. Normal?”

“Normal?”

“When he arrived?”

“I mean. Yeah. I guess.”

“He wasn’t. Out of breath?”

“What? No.”

“Or, wearing strange clothes or. Maybe he was driving a car he doesn’t usually drive?”

“Rey, what the fuck are you getting at?”

“I’m just taking your statement, Ben.” 

“Why are you asking so many questions about Hux?”

“I. I'm just trying to get the facts, okay, Ben?” She was saying his name to much. Ben scowled.

“Whatever, he called nine-one-one and that was basically it.”

“Basically.” 

“I checked the apartment just after he arrived. Made sure no one was hiding somewhere. But yeah, after he called, we just. Waited by the door.” 

“And you're sure Hux didn't. Say or do anything strange? I mean, given the circumstances.”

Ben blinked at her. Fuck.  _ Fuck. Shit fuck cock balls--  _ “Rey. What the fuck are you suggesting?” 

Rey sighed, long and resigned and Ben felt like everything inside of him was screaming. “Alright. Alright. Just. Hear me out, Ben.” 

Ben ground his teeth and his lips curled under his nose. “What.”

Rey reached for a stack of papers on her desk, suddenly animated and eager and. Looking alarmingly like Ben himself when he’d figured something out. “It was the timing. The timing has always been off for me. The General does something. New. Changes his pattern. And this. Hux guy just  _ shows up  _ in your life and he’s all you ever care about anymore--”

“That is  _ not--  _ and how would  _ you  _ even know--”

“Everyone else was saying it, not me.” She flapped a hand. “It’s fine, they mostly think he’s been good for you, say you’re not staying late every night and just. Getting enough sleep. Not drinking-- well, mostly,” she added with a flippant shrug that made Ben want to smack all the papers out of her hands. “They say you look good.”

“Who’s  _ they?” _

“Mitaka, Finn, the Chief. Poe doesn’t like him and Phas doesn’t say much of anything,” Rey shrugged and went on. “Anyway, that got me thinking. He shows up and you stop paying as much attention to the case. And then he came to that scene, that one time, and. I mean, you can’t tell me you haven’t been giving him information about the case; it’s natural. We tell the people we care about about our work--”

“I would  _ never--” _

“Maybe not a lot. Maybe not details. But. Tell me you didn’t tell him things. Like. When you’d had a break in the case, or when something was taking a while to work through.” Ben stared at her silently, fuming. “Exactly.” Rey paused. Took a huge breath. “Ben. This case is about you.” 

“What the fuck do you  _ mean  _ this case--”

“I. Ben. I found some stuff.” Ben stared at her and clenched his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking. She didn’t suspect him of anything. She didn’t suspect him  _ at all  _ but  _ Hux--  _ “All the victims. We can trace them all to you.” 

“ _ What?”  _

“You arrested Javez’s uncle on drug charges back when you were still in uniform.” She handed him a sheaf of paper and he stared at it without comprehending. “You were called to a domestic disturbance for Erica Preston’s neighbor.”

“Rey, come on, that’s--” Ben scoffed. 

“You’ve had run ins with the Guavians before. Blake Johnson was your mother’s biggest threat to office. Ben. Some of it’s shaky. I admit, but I can trace  _ everything  _ back to you. We thought the link was their records. That were all criminals, but it’s not. You’re the link. It’s you.” 

Ben’s head was screaming at him. He felt like  _ everybody  _ was staring. All the hair on the back of his neck was standing up because  _ Hux--  _ if what Rey had said was true than Hux had been--

“Snoke. How do you connect him.”

“It keeps coming back to him,” Rey admitted carefully. “He’s the. The odd man out. The puzzle piece I can’t quite get to fit. The first one with five stars. The first one with no record to speak of. He’s linked to your mother, like Johnson, but I don’t think that’s all. Why did he get five stars? Why him? And then Bell. We know why he got five. He was. Awful. Just awful. But. He got in your way.” 

Ben was going to be sick. 

“We thought five stars meant they were. The worst. The worst of the worst, but. Ben. What if it just means they pissed him off?” 

She was right. Good fuck, she was right. 

“Bell came after you in the press. He took you out of the field. By getting rid of him, the General  _ did you a favor.  _ But what’s more, he moved Bell out of his own way, cleared the path straight to you. So you won’t have to worry about  _ anyone  _ else.” Ben didn’t say anything, only stared. After a pause, Rey went on. “I started thinking. If we were investigating Snoke, who would stand to gain the most from his death? I started looking at it like its own murder, not like part of the General killings--”

“But it  _ is--” _

“And Ben. With Snoke out of the way, it all goes to Hux. The profits from their business, full control of the company.” 

“You think this is about  _ money?”  _

“It fits.” 

_ No, it doesn’t, it doesn’t, Hux doesn’t care about money, Snoke was a bad man, Soke was a  _ bad man--

“It’s a nice theory,” Ben scoffed, putting as much contempt into his voice as he could. “But--”

“I emailed your college professors.” 

“You did  _ what?” _

“Poe said you took classes on Shakespeare. More than you needed to. It got me thinking. So I looked at your transcripts. Sent a few emails. Luckily two of the four professors still had your papers on file. They said you were brilliant, by the way. That that’s why they saved them. You quoted ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ in several papers. Sometimes the exact quotes he’s using against you.” 

Ben’s voice shook when he said, “ _ You had no right--” _

“If he got a hold of those papers, he either works for the college-- which we’re looking into-- or he has computer skill. Hacking. Which  _ makes sense.  _ Ben. Hux has no hard alibis.” 

“ _ We have security footage--” _

“Security footage can be doctored! All we have is video of him entering a building but not of him leaving. No one can confirm he was actually present anywhere when  _ any  _ of the murders took place.” 

“ _ I can. He was with me at least two nights when--” _

“You saw him all night?”

“We  _ shared a bed--” _

“And there’s no chance he left without you knowing?” 

“ _ No!”  _

“Poe says you can be a heavy sleeper.” 

Ben gaped at her.  _ Fuck fuck fuck _ \--

The room had gone quiet. Ben looked up and they were all staring at him. Poe had a dark, apologetic look on his face. Phasma was staring at a paper on her desk, stridently avoiding his eyes. He could see her hand fisted in her lap.

“You didn’t collect all this in a couple days,” Ben hissed in dawning horror. “You’ve been. You’ve been at this for  _ weeks.  _ You’ve been.  _ Behind my back--” _

“Ben.” Rey’s voice was apologetic, but. Not regretful. ‘I’m sorry I had to do this’ instead of ‘I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have.’  _ Bitch.  _

“He was there all night. You’re  _ wasting time.  _ I’d  _ know  _ if he left,” Ben hissed. 

“Would you?” 

Ben stood up so quickly, the chair clattered to the ground behind him. “Fuck you. Fuck you, I don’t have to listen to this. You--” He lifted his hand, brandished a finger in Rey’s face, and hissed, “You  _ stay the hell away from him. You stay away from me.”  _

“Ben,” she called like he was a teenager, like she was a put upon mother having to discipline her rebellious child. 

Ben said, “ _ Fuck you.” _

Poe caught up to him outside. 

“Benny! Benny, come on, wait!”

Ben whirled on him and he saw Poe draw up short, fear flashing in his eyes.  _ Good. Good. Let him be scared. Ben had-- Ben could-- _

“Get away from me.”

“Don’t be like that, Benny. It  _ fits.  _ It  _ makes sense.  _ We don’t have any other leads--”

“How long? How long have you  _ motherfuckers  _ been  _ investigating my boyfriend? _ Behind my  _ back.” _

“A. A couple weeks,” Poe muttered hesitantly. “Rey. Maybe a little longer. She had a theory and  _ it fits,  _ Ben, you have to see that--”

“You never liked him! I gave Finn a  _ shot,  _ but you. You’re just. What, are you  _ jealous?”  _

People were staring at them. They were being loud. 

“You never  _ gave Finn a shot--”  _ he began incredulously _.  _ Then he hissed, _  “Jealous?”  _

Ben threw his hands up. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re just pissed he makes me  _ happy--” _

“Ben, what happened to your wrists,” Poe asked, voice tight and strange.

Ben dropped his hands. “None of your goddamn business.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. 

“He  _ killed  _ a man, Ben! If he was any other person, you’d be right here with us! You  _ know  _ something’s off with that guy--” 

Ben whirled, took two steps forward, and stuck his nose in Poe’s face. “I  _ love him.  _ You have no idea,  _ no idea--” _

“You’ve known the guy for  _ two months!” _

“Long enough,” Ben yelled. “There are some things you just know!”

It hurt. Ben could see it in the way Poe’s eyes got wider, in his slightly furrowed brow.

_ Good. _

“ _ Please _ , be logical about this!”

“Don’t fucking tell me to be logical! I love him. He knows me better than anyone--”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Benny?” Poe asked softly. “It’s  _ me.”  _

Ben ground his teeth together again. “You don’t know me like he does.” Poe’s head jerked like Ben had struck him. “No one does. He  _ gets me.  _ He  _ knows what I need!” _

“What you  _ need?  _ You’re covered in fucking  _ bruises!  _ Look at your  _ wrists--” _

Ben let out a short, angry, hysterical bark of laughter and brandished one wrist at Poe. “Yeah, let’s look at em, shall we?”

“Ben--”

“You know what else? He  _ fucks  _ me like no one else does too.” Poe’s eyes flashed. Pain. Ben had gone too far, had said too much, but now he couldn’t, he  _ wouldn’t  _ stop. Someone passing them did a double take and hurried along. “He makes me  _ feel things  _ no one else has  _ ever--” _

“So you’ve gone from one form of masochism to another?” Poe slapped Ben’s hand out of his face and his hands curled into fists at his side. He was leering at Ben like a bulldog, like he did was he was  _ really  _ upset, all curled, tight arms and hunched shoulders. “You’re not drinking yourself stupid anymore so you found a new way to tear yourself up?”

“ _ Fuck you _ \--”

“Ben?”

Ben and Poe both jerked around. Hux had parked his car in the street. Had climbed out and was walking up to them. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Ben hissed around clenched teeth, trying to slice Poe open with his gaze.  _ How dare he--  _ “Let’s just go--”

“Benny, wait--” Poe said desperately, all his fury melting to be replaced with. Fear. He grabbed Ben by the bicep as Ben turned. 

It happened very quickly. Poe’s fingers curled around Ben’s arm. Hux moved so rapidly, Ben didn’t even see it. His eyes were cold, ruthless, when his hand wrapped around Poe’s wrist. Poe shouted, Hux twisted, and Poe was at his mercy, body contorted to take pressure off his wrist, and they stared at each other, Hux’s eyes like ice. Like Poe was scum. Like Poe deserved to  _ die,  _ like Hux would  _ kill him  _ if he  _ ever-- _

Ben put his hand on Hux’s arm. Forced his voice not to shake when he said, “Baby. It’s fine. Let’s go. You can give your statement some other time.” 

Hux turned and blinked at him and his eyes cleared. Grew warm. The chills racing up Ben’s neck disappeared, replaced with a curl of heat in his chest. Hux let Poe go. 

Poe stumbled away with a hiss, massaging his wrist, and Ben and Hux both turned back toward Hux’s car. Ben didn’t look behind him as they walked. 

He didn’t know what was worse.  The angry, betrayed expression Poe was wearing, like he didn’t know Ben anymore, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen, what Ben had said to him.

Or the satisfaction unspooling in his gut at the memory of Hux glaring at Poe, inches from snapping his neck for presuming anyone but Hux could ever touch Ben ever again.  

 

~~~

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Hux said quietly when they’d been driving for at least a few blocks. “What happened?” 

“They suspect you.” Ben’s voice felt like broken glass in his throat, jagged and grating and fucking  _ painful.  _ “They--”

“Yes, I know.” 

“You know?”

“I got a call from my assistant twenty minutes ago. They’ve subpoenaed tax forms for my business.”

“On a fucking Saturday?” Ben mused. 

Hux shrugged. “They won’t receive anything for a few days. Someone just delivered the subpoena today. They’re lucky my assistant was even in. I imagine they’re grasping at straws.” 

Ben looked at Hux with his mouth hanging open. “How are you so calm about this? They  _ suspect you, Hux.” _

Hux shrugged one shoulder. “And there isn’t a shred of proof to back it up.”

“You don’t have real alibis--”

“Circumstantial evidence at best.” 

“And speaking of--” Ben snapped suddenly. “How the fuck did you manage to sneak out without me noticing?” 

Hux looked at Ben from the corner of his eye and something.  _ Guilty  _ flashed there. “You aren’t a light sleeper. But. Just to be sure I--”

“ _ You dosed me?”  _ Ben asked furiously, sitting up in his chair. The quick motion rubbed all the hot bruises on his ass and he winced without thinking about it, realizing for the first time all day how he’d been careful not to sit too quickly or shift his weight too abruptly.

“Melatonin!” Hux protested. “Just to be sure you stayed asleep.”

“ _ Hux.” _

“I couldn’t have you waking up and noticing I was gone,” Hux replied apologetically. “I’m sorry.” 

“What about the footage?” Ben pressed begrudgingly. “The security footage. Rey thinks you. Have like, hacker skills or some shit. That you doctored it.” 

“Does she?” Hux said in surprise. “Impressive. She’s right. She can’t prove that of course. And not all of it was doctored. Some of it was just good old fashioned avoidance-- for example I can show you how to sneak out of my apartment building without being picked up by the camera. But on the security feed it looks like we never left.” 

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, a horrible realization churning in his stomach. “You were. That night. You. Lied.” Ben took a huge breath. “You were  _ sexting  _ me while you were killing the Guavians, weren’t you?”

Hux gave Ben a tight smile.

“God  _ damn it,  _ Hux!” Ben hissed. “That’s. That’s. That is  _ not okay.”  _

Hux shrugged. “I wasn’t at first. When we started talking. I was just. Surveying. But then you texted me back and you were so--” Hux licked his lips and something hot flared in Ben’s gut. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Hux finished with a cold chuckle. He turned his head briefly, actually  _ obeying  _ a stop sign for once, and said, “Do you really expect me to be able to resist you when you’re speaking to me like that?” 

Ben released the breath he was holding when Hux rolled forward again, said grudgingly, “I wasn’t speaking.” 

Hux inclined his head. “Nonetheless.” 

“You don’t even have a cat, do you?” 

“Yes,” Hux said in surprise. “You didn’t see her? She must have been hiding. I. I was admittedly a bit distracted.” He frowned at the road. “I didn’t really pay her the attention she is due.” 

Ben chuckled in amazement. “Incredible.”

“What?”

“I just. You. And. The  _ shit  _ you do. And. Your cat. It’s a lot is all.” 

Hux’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Cause psycho murder-y types aren’t generally  _ cat  _ people.” 

“I’m not a. That is to say--”

“Yeah. You are.” 

“But I’m very controlled about it.” 

“You say that like it makes it better.” 

“Doesn’t it?” 

“Where are we going?” Ben said abruptly, sitting up ( _ carefully)  _ in his chair and peering out the window. Hux had driven the plain black car again. He was obeying the rules of the road. And he’d taken Ben to an unfamiliar part of town.

The puzzled concern in Hux’s face cleared. He smirked. “Just doing a bit of  _ reconnaissance.”  _

“Reconnai--” Ben murmured. Then he said, “ _ No.”  _

Hux only smirked and shook his head. 

“Hux. Stop. You can’t be fucking serious right now. I just told you they’re-- that Rey is--” 

“We’re just going for a drive, love. Relax.” 

Ben blinked back at him, strange chills darting down his spine.  _ Love.  _

Ben peered out the window and tried to figure out where Hux was headed. He was leaving the city, heading toward the burbs. Driving carefully in his plain black car. Ben realized belatedly that the windows were heavily tinted. Probably even illegal. But he wasn’t likely to get pulled just for that-- not in this part of town.

Hux slowed the car, parked on the street. Turned it off. It was a residential neighborhood with huge white houses rimming a big culdesac. All the houses were set back from the road at the ends of long driveways full of expensive cars. 

“Where are we?” 

Hux nodded at the house directly across from them. “Do you see anything familiar?” 

Ben sat up in his seat and leaned into the driver’s side to stare. “That’s.” The car in the driveway wasn’t one Ben could easily forget. “ _ Tarkin?”  _ he hissed. Hux hummed his consent, eyes hard on the windows of the house. “Hux,  _ no.  _ You can’t. He’s just. Doing his job.” 

“You don’t believe that.” 

“Someone has to represent the bad guys. That’s the whole  _ point. _ ” 

“Tarkin is hardly a public defender forced to hold up a moral imperative. He’s duplicitous, greedy, amoral, and opportunistic. He’s on the payroll of every criminal in the city with the cash to pay him and he’s put more evil back on our streets than any other lawyer in the city.”  _ Our streets. My city.  _ “And he’s hardly operated within the confines of the law.”

“How do you know that?” 

“He was Snoke’s lawyer,” Hux said smoothly. He turned and looked at Ben. “Eight years ago, he was mine.” 

“He got you off,” Ben muttered, crossing his arms and staring at the house. “This is how you repay him?” 

“He advised me to lie on the stand, attempted to intimidate the expert witnesses called by the prosecution, and bribed the judge to throw out that footage.”

“He did  _ what?”  _

“Well. Snoke bribed him. Tarkin facilitated the transfer. In all likelihood, I would have gotten off anyway. The footage did show the man attack me first and I had the benefit of having recently returned from combat, which is, of course, always a way to engender sympathy. I probably could have claimed PTSD if I was so inclined,” Hux mused, eyes flicking thoughtfully to the ceiling. “But. Tarkin made sure there was no chance.” Hux gave Ben a tight smile. “And just think how many people would still be alive if I’d ended up behind bars.”

“You’re a weird dude, you know that?” 

“Yes.” 

“How long do you do this for?” 

“As long as I have to. I observed the travel agency for three weeks. Bell, on the other hand, happened to show up at your apartment after I found him.”

“ _ What?” _

“I imagine he intended to wait for you to get home to taunt you. I found him at the hotel where he was staying and followed him. Lured him into that little alley next to your building. There’s a service entrance back there and the camera’s broken.”

“It wasn’t locked?” Ben prodded, a little dazed. 

“I broke the lock a few weeks ago; it doesn’t fully close, but it seems as if it does.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Hand me the binoculars in the glove box?” 

Ben looked down and felt his stomach knot. He wasn’t really going to do this. Was he? 

“Can’t we just like. Fool around in your car and then go home? I don’t. I don’t want to--” Hux turned and looked at him, one brow raised. “Bell was. It was different.”

“You don’t have to take care of Tarkin,” Hux said with a shrug. “But surveillance is always less maddening with a spotter.” 

“Spotter.” 

“Oh. Sorry-- em, spotters help snipers, feed us info, help us to calibrate shots--”

“I know what a spotter is. You’re still going to do this. You’re not planning on stopping.” 

“Why would I?” 

Ben stared at him. It was so  _ casual _ , the way he had spoken. Like Ben had asked him if he planned on bringing an umbrella with him on a sunny day.  _ Why would I? _

Then Ben thought of Tarkin, accusing him of corruption during a press conference, putting Anthony Bell and how many others back on the streets. 

Ben opened the glove box and handed Hux the binoculars. 

 

~~~

 

The Cantina was much quieter during the day. Ben lounged with a whole booth to himself and glared at Phasma sitting stiffly across from him. 

“You’re just going to sit there?” she snapped finally when Ben took a particularly long drag on the virgin strawberry daquiri he’d ordered when the bartender said he was too cute to just be drinking water. Ben had left him a ten dollar tip on a twelve dollar drink and of course that was the only reason the bartender had bothered talking him out of the water in the first place. 

“You called me, remember?”

Phasma shrugged. “I thought we should talk.” 

“So talk.” 

Phasma took a deep breath, a vein sliding in her temple. “You sure you know what you’re doing here, Ben?” 

“Nope.” 

“Then why--”

“Look at me, Phasma. Look at my face,” Ben said seriously, straightening up from the indolent lounge. He lowered his voice. “I’d give my life for that man. You better be damn sure I’d take one for him.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Phasma insisted. “He’s manipulative and unpredictable--”

Ben cut her off with an arrogant laugh. “You think you know him better than I do?”

“I’ve known him for  _ twelve years--” _

“But you don’t understand him.” Phasma was silent. “I do,” Ben insisted. “I know what he likes. I know what he--” Ben paused, vivid memory slamming into his head.  _ You could kill me  _ and  _ I deserve it _ and Hux’s low power-drunk laughter and the sound of leather against skin. Ben’s ass, sore against the hard booth, twinged in something like shame and something like satisfaction.  “--needs. And he knows me even better.” Ben took another sip of daiquiri. “He didn’t make me do anything. He just knew what I’d do if given the chance.” 

“And you’d do it again?” 

Ben shrugged. “Order. That’s what this fucking city needs. And if we can’t do it, with all our laws and protocols and fucking chain of command, who’s to say his way isn’t exactly what we need.” 

Phasma examined Ben for a long time. 

Then she said, “Okay.”

_ “Okay?”  _ Ben asked incredulously. Something told him she should have been a little less accepting, considering what he’d just admitted he planned to do.

“Okay,” Phasma said, spreading her hands. “Now we can talk.” 

“Talk.” 

“Talk.”

Ben leaned back and considered her, peered carefully into her vibrant blue eyes and tried to see what the fuck she was playing at. What he saw staring back surprised him. 

For all her critiques of character, Phasma was just as devoted to Hux as Ben was. 

“You like that he does this,” Ben breathed, laughter on his lips. 

“I gave him the names.” 

Of course she had. “You’ve been telling me to leave him alone, find someone else. Why?” 

“Because I know how you are. You’re still in love with Poe--”

“No,  _ I’m not.” _

“Or at I thought you were, and even if you aren’t, Poe’s the only person who's kept your attention for more than a few weeks as long as I’ve known you.”

“You were trying to protect  _ Hux?”  _

“He. He never said anything to me. But I realized after you met, after you questioned him the first time that he was. That he was  _ into  _ you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before. He’d always been like you in that regard-- never really concerned with romance. But where you-- well, until Poe at least-- where you just whored around and kept your dick wet, Hux would just kinda. Pop out to a bar every couple of months, pick someone up. Never see them again. You can’t blame me for being worried. What if you’d turned Hux into another notch on your bedpost?” 

“I’d  _ never--  _ he wouldn’t  _ let--” _

“Like I said, I’ve never seen him give two shits about another person before. I’m literally the only friend he’s got and I don’t even think he likes me all that much. And Ben. You annoy the ever loving shit out of me, but I still don’t want to see you  _ in a box.  _ And if you’d done to Hux what you do to most guys…” Phasma trailed off. “I wouldn’t put it past him. I really don’t know. I just. Don’t see him dealing with rejection very well.” 

Ben laughed and the sound was dark, and a little eerie, even to his own ears. “No. No I don’t think he would.”  _ ‘He’s ruined Shakespeare for you?’  _

“I didn’t. Just so you know, Ben. He never told me this was all for you. I didn’t realize until the Shakespeare started showing up that he always intended this to toy with you. I asked him to stop after that. But. You know Hux. He does what he wants.” 

Ben nodded thoughtfully. But then he pressed, “It doesn’t bother you at all, does it?” 

“No,” Phasma said with a shrug. “I gave him names. Sometimes he took them out, sometimes those names just led him to new people. But. What he’s doing. It’s needed. You know it is.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “There’s more though, isn’t there? 

Phasma smirked “He took out the Guavians for me. I got out of the gun game last year, when Hux started planning all this. Figured it was better I was clean if things went south. They came to me and tried to force my hand, get me to move some product for them. So Hux took care of it. He takes care of his, you know?” 

Ben thought of Hux twisting Poe into half a pretzel yesterday morning for daring to grab Ben. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.” 

“He’s not going to stop, is he?” 

“No.” 

“You’re going to help him.”

“Yeah. He. He wants me to.”

“I don’t want to hear about it, Ben. I’ll keep funneling the names if you want me to, but spare me the details. The less I know the better.” 

“Deal.” 

Phasma stuck her hand across the table. Ben grabbed it and shook. 

By the time Hux strolled in, they had moved away from conversation that required them to whisper. Hux folded himself in beside Ben after Ben swung his legs off the seat. “How’d it go, babe?”

“That Detective Kenobi is insufferable,” Hux snapped. 

“Yeah, well, she think’s you’re guilty,” Ben said around the twirly pink straw. 

“And she wasn’t the slightest bit subtle about it,” Hux grumbled. “No tact whatsoever.” 

“Yeah, well. I hadn’t gotten to show her much about interrogation before the whole suspension thing.” 

“We’ll have to keep an eye on her,” Hux began, but paused when the bartender left his place behind the bar and came over to take Hux’s order. Hux demanded a bourbon and a refill of whatever Ben and Phasma had been drinking. Once the bartender disappeared, Hux said, “Phasma. Keep her close.” 

Phasma frowned. “I’ll do my best, but-”

“Ask Uncle Luke to reassign you,” Ben said sharply. They turned to look at him. “Temporarily, only while I’m gone. Have him partner the two of you. Poe and Finn would be  _ overjoyed  _  to partner together for a while. It’s a good plan. She’s a rookie, she shouldn’t be on her own anyway and after me, you’re the best to teach her.” 

“After you,” Phasma snorted. 

“Whatever, just do it alright?” 

“Oh, you're giving the orders now?” Phasma teased. 

Hux said, “I like it. Do it.” 

Phasma rolled her eyes, “Yes,  _ sir.”  _

The bartender reappeared with their drinks. The sight of Hux’s bourbon made Ben’s mouth water. He took a very unsatisfying sip of what was basically just a strawberry smoothie instead. 

“I’m glad to see we’re all on the same page,” Hux said pointedly when the bartender once more walked away. He put his arm around Ben’s shoulders and Ben, without thinking, melted against him, all the little hurts and happy bruises Hux had given him last night and the night before suddenly pulsing into a beautiful, intoxicating tingle. The urge to down Hux’s bubon when he wasn't looking disappeared; Ben was perfectly happy with his virgin daiquiri. His throat was sore from all the yelling anyway. The daiquiri felt nice. 

Phasma noticed. She frowned at him, but it was a thoughtful expression that quickly morphed into amusement. “Well, aren’t you two just adorable.” 

Hux said, “Shut up,” but didn’t take his arm away. Ben leaned his head on Hux’s shoulder and grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING INCREDIBLE. 
> 
> The response to these last few chapters (I mean, the whole thing, really, but these last few chapters in particular) has been AMAZING. I am constantly walking around on a cloud right now and I am GIDDY to give you the last two chapters. I'm hoping to get them up REALLY quickly, preferably within the week. 
> 
> I've been working on this story for a while now (longer than most projects I undertake) and this has been just SO REWARDING. 
> 
> Shout out to Ajax for pep talks, comments to assuage my anxiety and boost my ego, and just general flailing when I need it most. I adore you, darling. 
> 
> And also to Archistratego for sending me the MOST BEAUTIFUL comments, yelling at me on tumblr, and agreeing to beta these last few chapters. This particular chapter is much improved (imo) for your help. <3 You were SO right about needing more Phasma here.


	14. Bang

Millie stared at Ben from the couch, suspicious and annoyed, as she always was with him. He stuck out his hand and made kissy noises but the little ginger cat turned her nose away and appeared to find the wall infinitely more amusing and worthy of her attention than Ben. Hux had said she’d warm up to him, but she’d only let him pet her when she was curled up beside Hux, or sleeping at the foot of their-- Hux’s-- at the foot of Hux’s bed. 

The intercom buzzed. 

Ben set his orange juice down and walked to the one by the elevator. “Yeah?” 

“Mr. Solo. It’s Pat with security--”

“Yeah, I know who you are Pat. We’ve been through this. You don’t have to announce yourself every time-- whatever. Hux is at work.” 

“Uh, yeah, I know. You’ve got a visitor, sir...” 

“What-- me? Who?” 

“Uh, a Mr. Skywalker?”

Ben sighed. “Send him up.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Ben stepped back into the bedroom to tug on pants over his boxers and a shirt. He didn’t realize until he was stepping back out into the living room that he’d grabbed Hux’s A shirt from the floor where they’d dropped it last night and not his own. It. Didn’t strictly fit properly. But it smelled like Hux. Ben didn’t bother changing. 

“Ben.” Luke hugged him before he could say anything. 

“Hi.” 

Luke stepped into Hux’s apartment and peered around, probably trying to ignore the stiff way Ben had returned his embrace. A cold silence stretched between them-- Ben hadn’t talked to anybody from the station but Phasma since  _ the incident.  _ “He’s got a nice place, Hux does.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You haven’t been back to your place at all? You know we cleared the scene weeks ago.” 

Ben shrugged. “A man bled out in my living room. I don’t want to sleep there.” 

“And. Hux doesn’t mind? You living here?” 

“No.” 

“Uh. That’s. That’s great, Ben. It’s really good to see you. We. We miss you.” Ben didn’t say anything. Luke shifted and reached into his pocket. “Lee and Pinkerton cleared you this morning.” Luke put Ben’s badge in his hand. “I want you back.” 

“Took em long enough,” Ben muttered, staring at his badge. It felt heavier than he remembered. 

“Bell’s murder threw a wrench in things. Pinkerton wanted to clear you and just get out of this whole mess, but Lee insisted they be as thorough as possible to clear you of any suspicion in Bell’s death. As frustrating a it was, I think she was right.” Luke’s voice was frustratingly even, like he was talking about the weather instead of the most infuriating thing to ever to happen to Ben over the course of his entire career. In that instant, Ben wanted to do something outlandish and violent, wipe that serene look off Luke’s face. He entertained himself with images of kicking Luke in the shin, putting a hitch in his even, unhurried voice, and a little surprise in that to smooth, zen expression he always wore. 

Instead of kicking Luke in the shin, Ben muttered, “Good for Lee and Pinkerton The General’s been laying low.”

Luke nodded. “We. Think he’s waiting for you to get back on the case.” 

Ben scowled. “But of course, you can’t do that. What with my  _ boyfriend  _ being your only suspect and all.” 

“We’ve got other cases you can work, Ben.” 

“With Rey?”

“She  _ is _ your partner--” 

Luke fell silent when Ben shoved the badge back at him. “Find someone else.” 

“Ben.” 

“She was investigating Hux behind my back. She’s a fucking  _ rookie  _ with a crackpot theory and she went  _ too far.  _ Poe too. I.” Ben stared at his badge in Luke’s hand. “I can’t work with people I can’t trust.” Even as the words left his mouth, Ben had to bite back a half hysterical shout of laughter.  _ Hello, Pot? This is Kettle... _

“Please--”

“The General case, or no case,” Ben said stoically, forcing his expression to be as smooth and serene as Luke’s and crossing his arms over his chest. “Rey or me.” 

“You know I can’t--”

“Yes, you can. Transfer her. Promote her. I don’t give a fuck, but get her out of my sight and put me back on my case so we can start making some real progress again. Otherwise.” Ben shrugged. “Why are you even here?”

“She’s a  _ good detective,  _ Ben. Natural talent, strong willed, good instincts. She reminds me of  _ you.”  _

“She crossed a line.” 

“Yes, she did,” Luke conceded. “And she won’t--”

They both froze when the elevator dinged and then opened. Ben felt his heart skip, as it always did when Hux stepped into a room. Luke did an about face and Ben saw something in his posture shift, something Ben couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like Luke was hiding something of himself when before, he’d been showing Ben everything. 

Did everyone really buy into Rey’s theory so fully? 

They shouldn’t have. They had no real  _ proof,  _ no real evidence. Any prosecutor would laugh them out of the city if they tried to bring charges against Hux. 

It just made it all the more frustrating knowing they were right. 

And what was worse: Ben had had these types of feelings before. He’d  _ known  _ in the darkest pits of his soul that Bell was their guy well before anyone else had bought the theory. And all he’d gotten from all sides was discouragement--  _ We need to keep an open mind about this. We have no evidence. That’s a stretch.  _

But everyone had gone along with Rey’s story-- which had at least the same merit as some of Ben’s more abstract deductive leaps if not less-- with hardly a blink. 

Ben could fucking strangle them. Every goddamn one of them. And  _ Rey.  _ Hux would appreciate some of his more twisted daydreams about  _ her. _

“Chief Skywalker!” Hux said in surprise, hanging his keys on the only empty space left on the little rack by the door. 

“Mr. Hux.” 

“You’re home early.” Ben’s voice was warmer than he meant it to be, with Luke watching them. But he couldn’t help it. He was always happy to see Hux. “Didn’t expect you for another few hours.” 

Hux laid his bag in its spot by the door and said, “My last meeting for the day canceled. To what do we owe the honor? Is everything alright? ” 

Ben nodded. Luke looked at Ben, a mischievous and calculating twinkle in his eye, and then said, “Wonderful, actually. Ben’s been reinstated.” 

“That’s fantastic,” Hux said brightly. Ben grunted. Hux blinked at him. “You don’t seem-- Oh. I see,” he turned to Luke and said very amicably, “You’re still investigating me, aren’t you?” 

Luke’s brows rose and he gave Ben  _ a look  _ before saying, “We’re working on eliminating as many options as possible.” 

“Of course. I understand. I-- Ben. Are you wearing my shirt?” 

“Hmm--what? Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I. Didn’t realize.” 

“Stop wearing my clothes,” Hux said curtly for probably the tenth time this week. “That shirt will never fit me again.” 

“So buy a new one,” Ben scoffed. 

“That’s not the point, Benjamin.” Ben grinned at him. Hux rolled his eyes. “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Skywalker? Coffee? Tea? Soda water?” 

“No, thank you.” Luke held out his hand and when Ben only stared at the badge Hux reached out and took it instead. “Please. Reconsider, Ben.” 

“Reconsider--?” Hux mused, staring down at the badge and then back up at Ben. He fell silent, eyes shifting to Luke. 

“It’s good to see you,” Luke added. 

Hux was silent for a long time after Luke left. When he finally did speak, his voice was careful and restrained. “You really want to quit?” 

“It’s been a month”  Ben grumbled. “If they think they don’t need me-- And I’ll be damned if I’m working with Rey again. Not after the shit she pulled.” 

Hux frowned at him. “She’s right though--”

“She went behind my back. Partners don’t do that shit.” 

“We could use you on the inside.”

“Phasma’s there.” 

“What do you plan on doing?” 

Ben grinned and spread his arms. “I can always just live off my rich boyfriend. This whole sleeping-in-until-noon-and-staying-in-my-underwear-all-day thing suits me.” Ben pointed at his head and preened. “Look how shiny my hair is.” 

“That’s my ninety dollar bottle of shampoo, not your new sleeping habits,” Hux countered, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk. His eyes dropped to Ben’s hips, clearly visible due to Ben’s too-small shirt that didn’t quite reach and he said, “And those are also my underwear.” 

“My dick feels like it’s floating on a cloud.”

“I’m spoiling you.” 

“I mean. No more than your cat.” 

“When that day comes we will have a serious problem indeed.” 

“Until then,” Ben teased. “I think I’ll just hang out here.”  

Hux frowned disapprovingly. “If you intend to do that,” he said, taking a few steps forward and hooking his fingers in Ben’s belt loops. “I expect you to earn your keep.” 

“And how would I do that?” 

Hux smirked. “Don’t be coy. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Mmm,” Ben mused. “Sounds an awful lot like you’re suggesting I trade money for sex.”

“Just room and board. It’s not as if I’ve given you an allowance.” 

“And what exactly would I have to do to get one of those?” 

Hux’s smirk widened and he said, “You do make a very pretty whore.”

A spark of heat raced down Ben’s spine and tingled in his stomach. The reaction made him huff in disbelief and shake his head; just hearing Hux say that word in casual conversation shouldn’t have the effect on Ben that it did. But since the last few times he’d heard that word spoken by those lips Hux had been moaning while Ben choked on his cock, he supposed he owed himself a pass.  

“‘Whore’s’ a little harsh,” Ben whispered into the air beside Hux’s jaw.

“You like it,” Hux whispered back. 

Ben kissed the spot below below Hux’s ear, breathed him in. And Ben was happy. 

 

~~~

 

“You do clean up well,” Hux teased gently as Ben finished knotting his tie. Ben turned his head and smiled before he caught himself in the floor length mirror. It was a decidedly Hux expression bleeding from Ben’s lips. 

Ben hummed in consent and Hux turned away from him in the walk-in closet, disappeared into the room hidden behind the wall that held all Hux’s sport coats and suit jackets. Ben adjusted his tie one last time and followed him. 

It was a big room, for something so well hidden-- bigger than Hux’s closet and that was saying something. It was wedged between the closet in one of the guest rooms, and of course, Hux’s walk in, making it invisible if you didn’t know it was there. The light was soft and warm, with a slight reddish tint, but still bright enough to see by. Hux was standing at the desk, thumbing through a file. He looked up at Ben as Ben walked in, hands shoved into his pockets. 

“You. Sure. Tonight,” Ben muttered. 

Hux nodded curtly. “We have all the information we need-- it’s already taken longer than I would have liked to compile it all.” Ben nodded. It had taken far too long to finalize Tarkin’s schedule-- it changed from day to day, but mostly not from week to week. And since neither Ben nor Hux trusted Ben to handle the recon by himself, they’d had to work around Hux’s job, and maintaining some air of normalcy-- showing up at restaurants, being seen out and about with Phasma, strolling hand in hand down busy city streets. Ben had liked the last part the most-- mostly because it irked Hux. He wasn’t much of a hand holder. 

Ben took a steadying breath. “So what do we--” Hux pointed to a small duffel bag by the door without lifting his head. 

“Everything’s ready.” 

Ben nodded and peered around the room. 

It almost looked cozy, at first glance-- a well used office. But then it became clear that the pictures tacked to the bulletin boards had been taken without the subjects’ knowledge. That the board above the filing cabinet displayed photos of murdered people. 

Hux had a detailed dossier on each one. 

Ben’s file had been the most upsetting. He’d been too unnerved to speak the first time Hux, almost sheepishly, showed it to him. It was full of pictures Ben had never consented to posing for. There were candid shots of him about town-- at least one, but usually more, with every friend and family member he had except for Han and Chewie. There were enough shots of him and Poe to wallpaper this room and Ben could see their relationship dying in each photo, could see Poe moving further and further away from him with every new snapshot. 

And then there were newspaper clippings, hand written reports on his schedule, his college transcripts and papers. It was eerie and overwhelming and he’d started cataloging the room in his head so he didn’t have to think too hard about it. That’s when he’d seen the framed photo on the edge of Hux’s desk, almost completely hidden face down under a pile of paper and folders. Ben had recognized it instantly and eagerly latched on to a topic that wasn’t how long Hux had been watching Ben-- and for what purpose.

“You took that from his office, didn’t you?” 

Hux had smiled at him, thoroughly amused, and said, “How did you know that?” 

“Right size. Frame matches another he had.” Ben had lifted the photo and found Hux’s face staring back at him beside Snoke’s, shaking hands, looking very chummy. Ben almost asked Hux why he had taken it-- he’d never taken anything else from a scene before. But then he knew. “He did something to you, didn’t he? Something to make you. Angry.” 

“He was embezzling,” Hux had replied somberly, and with only a hint of malice. “He had to be taken care of.” 

Of course Hux wouldn’t want any pictures of him left behind in Snoke’s office. Of course he’d want to erase any evidence of his and Snoke’s partnership after discovering Snoke’s betrayal. 

“Why keep it?” 

Hux had shrugged. “Frankly I forgot it was there. I brought it back to burn it, but.” He gave Ben a scorching look. “I was distracted.” That was the day they had met. Had Hux had the frame hidden in his office at work when Ben had been there? Had he had the file? 

The photo was gone now. Ben had destroyed it himself. 

Ben ran his fingers through his drying hair and shook the memory away. “Are you alright?” Hux asked him carefully, still without lifting his eyes from the file. 

“Fine,” Ben replied. He’d had a month to adapt to the idea of killing Tarkin. 

In some ways, he actually  _ wanted  _ to do it. And to do it himself. Only the fear of repercussions made his chest tighten. But. Hux hadn’t slipped up yet; that was comforting at least.

Hux snapped the file closed and looked up. When he’s eyes caught on Ben’s face, his smirk softened, grew warm. Ben felt his skin prickle, felt a pleasant, heady chill dart over his body and settle in the bite marks on his chest and the scratches on his back and the heat still tingling, hours later, across his backside. He couldn’t help it. He smiled back. “Dinner?” Hux asked, setting the file back down on the desk. 

Ben nodded. “I’m starving.” 

Ben followed him to the elevator and Hux only paused to grab the keys to the plain black car.  
Someone was waiting for them, in the lobby. 

“Ben!”

Ben scowled, anger flaring in his chest. 

Rey. 

She had been talking to Pat with Security-- they had probably just missed the intercom buzz. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ben demanded. He saw Pat flinch and realized this was probably the only time Pat had ever seen him angry. 

Rey frowned, the expression pained and genuine, and it just made Ben hate her more. He realized belatedly that Hux had fallen behind him, was letting him lead. “I. I wanted to talk. You haven’t called me back, or--”

“I have nothing to say to you. Move. We’re going to dinner.” 

“We cleared Hux today!” Rey called desperately, trotting after them as they stepped into the parking garage. “An hour or so. Ago. I wanted to tell you.”  

Ben paused and looked back at her. Hux did too. 

“I’m sorry,” Rey said, looking at Hux. “We got. Finally got some footage we’d been waiting on. Your alibi for the third murder is. Rock solid. I’m sorry.” 

Ben watched Hux. Hux shrugged and said, “I’m sure you are.” 

Ben’s lips twitched into a small smile at the way Rey’s face fell. “Er. I’m,” she started. 

“If that’s all--” Ben began, turning away. 

“No, wait!” Ben paused and looked back at her. “Ben. Please come back. The Chief said you. That you don’t think. Please. Come back. We need you.” Ben turned and looked at her with his brows raised. “I. I need you. We’ve made no progress without you. And. It’s been a month since Bell and I’m.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m scared. He’s planning something, I know he is and we have to find him before-- Ben, he’s killed so many people.” 

Ben didn’t look at Hux. He wasn’t sure he could take it, could stand seeing Hux’s eyes gleaming, even as his lips turned down in a beautiful imitation of concern. Instead, Ben stared at Rey for a long time. Then he said, “I’ll consider it.”

“Please. Please, consider it,” she said, sighing in something like relief-- Ben hadn’t outright denied her at least. Ben nodded, and Rey spoke again, this time, looking back at Hux. “And Mr. Hux. I really am sorry.” 

Her voice sounded genuine. Her expression was perfectly ashamed. But her eyes. 

She didn’t believe a word she was saying. 

Hux clicked the remote on his keys and the parking lights on the black car flipped on. They both climbed in, Hux pausing to slide the small duffel he was carrying into the backseat. Rey took a step closer, eyeing the bag silently. Then she looked at the car itself and something in her eyes cleared. “What kind of car is this?” she asked, a little too quickly. 

Hux glanced at her, hand pausing on the handle, and Ben felt something twist in his stomach. 

“An Acura,” Hux replied blandly, as if Rey was a bit dim. 

“Acura, huh?” Rey countered, voice a little too friendly. 

Ben hissed, “Hux.” 

“A little understated for you, isn’t it?” she pressed. “I thought you stuck to these fancy sportscars.” She motioned to the high end vehicles surrounding them. 

Hux shrugged. “Don’t you ever just wear jeans and a T-shirt, Detective Kenobi?” 

“What?”

“Sometimes it’s nice to blend in,” Hux said lightly. Ben put his hand on Hux’s thigh, the motion easy and intimate, the kind of touch expected of two lovers. But he squeezed so hard his fingertips went white. Hux brushed him away. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Hux tugged the door shut without saying good bye, and reversed out of the space. Rey watched them drive away, hands in her pockets, eyes dark. 

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Hux? Are you  _ trying  _ to fuck with her?” 

Hux chuckled. “Yes.” 

“ _ Why?  _ She still suspects you!”

“I know she does. It must be maddening to have so much evidence to the contrary, and still just  _ know. _ ”

Ben blinked at Hux and something clicked into place. “You’re trying to make her quit.” Hux nodded. “Freak her out enough, or make her seem. Crazy enough. If she keeps insisting it’s you when no one else believes her-- fuck, Hux, that’s brilliant.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s also dangerous.” 

“I know.” Hux grinned, expression a little manic. “That’s what makes it fun.” 

“What was the alibi she was talking about?” 

“Oh. I doctored some forms and some security footage. It appears as if I was on the other side of the country during the time of that murder.”

“And there’s no way she can find out it’s fake?”

Hux shrugged. “If she digs deep enough, it’ll start to look a little strange. But she should have credit card receipts for restaurants, hotel stays, plane tickets. Footage of me in the airport. No trace of me about town. I was very thorough.” 

Ben shook his head in disbelief. “How did you do all that?” 

“You’d be amazed what you can do with a home computer, the proper software, and my IQ.” 

Ben chuckled. “I’m never gonna stop being amazed by you, am I?” 

“Not if I can help it.” 

Ben let his head fall back against the headrest, turned to look at Hux, and grinned.

 

~~~

 

They went back to the sushi place for the first time since their first date. Mai gave Ben a tight lipped smile until he winked at her and apologized for breaking her vase. Then she grinned and touched his arm and told him she couldn’t possibly stay mad at him and Ben got to enjoy Hux’s eyes sharpening in annoyance. The flash of jealousy made Ben feel hot and happy and mischievous and he openly flirted with her for most of the meal just because it was easier to ignore the anxious tingling in his gut when it was covered up with lusty tingles instead-- annoyed and jealous Hux just sort of did it for him.  
But then the meal was done. Then they were climbing into Hux’s plain black car and Ben could feel his heart racing in the tips of his fingers, like his whole body was singing, like every nerve was alive and on fire with mind-racing anticipation and. And it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

Who was he kidding. This was better than every drug he tried, better even than being drunk. 

Hux parked the car and they both stared at the dark, empty building. Hux pulled the duffle from his backseat. Untied his tie. Unbuttoned his shirt. Ben quickly did the same. They both tugged on plain black shirts, long sleeved and comfortable. They changed thier shoes. 

Ben didn’t realized how much his breathing had sped up until Hux put a leather clad hand on his shoulder, gentle and reassuring, and said, “Breathe, Ben.” 

Ben nodded as he tied his hair back, took a deep breath and held it. It helped. 

“And, here we go,” Hux said, turning back to look at the building. 

Ben looked too, and there he was, exactly as planned.   
Tarkin. 

Tarkin unlocked the front door and slipped inside. Hux turned to look at Ben. “Are you ready?” Ben nodded silently. “Remember. Stay close to me. You should be able to touch me at all times.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” 

Hux nodded, the motion a determined jerk, and watched Ben for a long moment, eyes hard and sparkling. Then he leaned forward and kissed Ben on the mouth. 

Ben’s head spun with the impossibility of it all. Because he was sitting in a car with a beautiful, devastating, impossible man, plotting murder. No. It was already plotted. He was sitting in a car waiting for a man he fully intended to help Hux kill. Premeditated. Murder in the first degree. 

It would almost be better if Ben hated Tarkin. But he didn’t. He was disgusted by Tarkin. But hate? Hate was too personal. Ben hated men  _ like  _ Tarkin. He believed in the very core of his Benhood that Tarkin was an evil sonofabitch and the world would be better off without him. 

But his more logical, cop brain knew for all Tarkin had done to him, it hadn’t been personal. He’d been doing his job, and doing it  _ very  _ well. 

Ben wasn’t sure if that made all of this better or worse. 

And Hux was  _ kissing  _ him and wasn’t that just a little bit of a mind fuck? Like they weren’t about to do something totally depraved. Like they were about to go to a party with a bunch of architect types Ben didn’t know and he wanted to impress them for Hux and Hux was trying to reassure him.  _ You’ll do fine, love. _ Like this was a  _ normal, couple-y  _ thing to do. 

Nothing with Hux was ever going to be normal. 

Nothing with Ben was ever going to be normal ever, ever again. He was a murderer now. Not just a killer, no matter what Hux said. This was murder. 

That thought should have scared him more.

“Are you alright, Ben?” Hux asked, voice only a little sharp, as he pulled away. “I suppose you can wait here if you--” he began with only a hint of exasperation, but Ben cut him off. 

“I’m fine,” he said. And he was. “Let’s go.” Hux’s lips quirked and Ben felt a satisfied sort of warmth swell in his chest. He was going to make Hux  _ proud.  _

Hux put his leather clad hand on the door and paused to look up and down the street. “Get on my side. If you walk around the security feed from the parking garage will pick you up,” he reminded Ben before he opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement. He only paused long enough for Ben to clamor gracelessly over the gear shift and join him before he swung the door shut, adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and started to cross the street. 

He didn’t run, but he moved  _ very  _ quickly, with his back straight, but his head down. Ben stuck close enough that he was almost kicking Hux’s heels as he walked. Hux paused when he made the door to the building, glanced around once, and silently slipped inside. Ben followed. 

It was dark. The building was just a shell so far, the site of the new  _ Tarkin, Tarkin, and Tarkin  _ office.  _ Their  _ Tarkin-- the youngest partner and the third name on the office sign-- was in charge of overseeing its construction. Once a week, after hours, he slipped down and inspected the work that had been done. He took his time, moving over each floor. It took him at least a half an hour every time he was here, and he was always completely alone. 

It was the perfect spot. 

Tarkin was two floors up-- they could tell by the flashlight beam they saw bobbing through the unfinished cracks in the walls and the floor. This week, the contractors had started hanging drywall. They were done with the first floor, a big, open lobby. Ben couldn’t tell how much was completed beyond this. 

Hux paused with his back to the wall beside the door-- Ben followed his lead-- and looked around the room very quickly and carefully. It was a huge open space, with pieces of drywall leaning in corners, tools left spread out for the next day, buckets of mud, and unlit work lights strewn across the whole floor. The entrance to the stairwell was to their left. The floor was covered in saw and plaster dust and Hux frowned when he noticed it. They’d have to sweep over their footprints when they left. 

Hux met his eyes and motioned with a glance to the floor above them. Ben nodded. 

He moved like a cat, padding so softly across the dust strewn floor, he didn’t even lift the little clouds of plaster and sawdust that floated behind Ben every time he moved. Hux walked a little strangely, placing his toes, when he could, in shoe prints left by Tarkin or the work crew. Ben did his best to follow along, and wasn’t completely disappointed with himself. He wasn’t quite as light on his feet as Hux was, but he’d always been agile-- especially for a big man-- and aside from the little dust clouds, there were no other traces of his presence. 

Hux moved quickly across to the stairwell and then paused, eyes locked on the ceiling and, when it made its appearance, the bobbing flashlight beam. Tarkin wasn’t taking any pains to stay quiet. When he moved, Hux moved, darting up two and three stairs at a time, and then pausing, melding into the shadows until even Ben, who knew he was there, had to strain to see him. 

It gave Ben chills, how easy this was for him, how at home Hux was in the dark. 

His victims hadn’t stood a chance. Not one. 

Hux paused at the second floor, listening. Tarkin was on the third floor. Hux kept moving. Halfway up to the third floor, Tarkin’s footsteps got louder, and Hux snapped to the wall, molded himself into the shadows and stayed there. Ben took two steps back down, crouched low, and did the same, heart hammering. 

Tarkin stepped out onto the stairwell, flashlight trained on the ground, and he was in plain sight. All he had to do was turn and--

Ben caught his breath and held it when Tarkin’s eyes tracked absently over the shadowy stairwell. Then he turned and started moving up to the next floor. Ben released the breath and stared back at Hux. Hux didn’t look the slightest bit phased. 

_I can come within a few feet of most people without them being any the wiser._ _People are alarmingly unobservant in their own homes._

Fuck. 

He truly was terrifying. Ben was the risk here-- Ben was the one who might give the game away. But Hux? Hux had snuck past a fucking rott without waking it up. Hux had out maneuvered security feeds in dozens of different places in dozens of different ways. Hux had killed nearly twenty people without bringing Ben a step closer to finding him. And what had he done in the army? What kinda fucked up black ops shit had he done for the Rangers? 

Hux waited for Tarkin to turn out of sight. Then he looked back at Ben.

Grinned. 

Winked. 

_ Goddamn it.  _

Hux turned back to the stairwell, listened for Tarkin’s foot falls, and started his pattern again. Darting up stair by stair. Pausing. Listening. 

When they made the landing, Tarkin’s phone rang. Hux frowned. 

“Go for Tarkin. Yeah. I’m here now. Yeah. Almost done. Things look good for the most part, but I think we’re behind schedule with the electrical work on top floor. They’ve already started drywalling in the lobby but things are looking a little… less. Up here.” 

Hux made his way to the door, took a quick look into the room, then darted back into the stairwell. 

He looked at Ben grimly, and mimed holding a phone. Drew his thumb across his neck. Ben understood. They needed Tarkin to hang up. 

He motioned with his eyes to Ben’s waist, and Ben understood that too. Normally, Hux would sit and wait. But that was before Ben. That was before he had another body to contend with-- one much bigger and harder to hide than his own.   

Ben drew his gun. Hux nodded, mouthed, “Wait,” then stepped into the room. Ben moved into position so he could watch. Hux moved so carefully, sometimes he looked like he was standing still even though he was still moving forward. Tarkin was standing in the middle of the room with his back to the door, chatting with whoever was on the other line, flashlight darting over the wall opposite Hux. 

When Hux reached the wall opposite the door, Ben stepped into the room, making no effort to hide himself. He lifted his arms, gun trained on Tarkin, and waited. 

It didn’t take long. Tarkin was turning casually about the room, only half paying attention as he spoke. When he turned to face the door, he went still instantly, mouth hanging open, phone dangling loosely from his hand. Ben mouthed, “Hang up.” 

Tarkin’s eyes narrowed and when he opened his mouth again, Ben made a show of clicking off the safety. Behind him, Hux was starting to creep forward; Ben tried not to look at him. 

Tarkin said very carefully, “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll call you back.” And lowered the phone. He opened his mouth, said, “So--” and Hux pounced. He really  _ pounced.  _

He had his arms coiled around Tarkin’s neck so fast, Ben almost didn’t see him move. He was like a viper. Or a boa. It made Ben’s mouth go dry, watching Hux like this-- seeing how sure he was, how fast, how strong. How utterly perfect.  

Tarkin didn’t immediately drop the phone and Ben dove forward just in time to catch it when he finally did. He hadn’t hung up. Ben ended the call, and powered the phone down. By the time he looked back up, Tarkin’s hands, scrabbling at Hux’s forearms, sliding uselessly from the cloth there, were starting to go weak and fluttery. 

He hadn’t stopped struggling when Hux said, “The stepladder and the bucket. Middle of the room.” Tarkin’s arms went limp. “Now.” 

Ben dove for the bucket, dragged it forward. Hux dumped the body--Tarkin. Tarkin. He wasn’t dead yet-- onto it and Ben tugged the step ladder into place behind him. They didn’t have a chair. This would have to do. Tarkin sagged awkwardly against the back of the stepladder and Hux held him in place as he pulled the twine from his bag. He tossed Ben a ball, retrieved his own, and the two of them went to work. They’d practiced this part. Because Ben needed to tie the knots exactly as Hux did. Exactly. 

By the time Tarkin started groaning, they’d finished tying his hands to the ladder and had both dropped to his ankles. 

“What the  _ fuck _ \--”

Ben dropped his ball of twine and trained the gun back on Tarkin’s face. Tarkin went still again. Hux finished with the knots. 

“Solo.” 

“Mr. Tarkin,” Ben said, voice shaking and eerily cheerful, even to his own ears. 

Tarkin knew he was in trouble. Ben could see it in his eyes and he said very carefully, “What do you think you’re doing, Detective Solo.” His voice was sharp and controlled. 

“Fuck does it look like?” Ben muttered. 

Hux said, “Benjamin.” And Ben fell silent. “You can put the gun away.” 

“This is a bucket and ladder,” Ben snapped. “Not exactly as sturdy as a desk chair.” 

“True,” Hux conceded. 

“Who are--” Tarkin’s voice was so tight, it didn’t sound like a question. Ben could see fear in his eyes. Fear, and anger-- he was used to controlling whatever conversation he was having. This must be killing him, Ben thought. 

It was fucking wonderful. 

“Wait,” Tarkin said sharply. “I  _ know you,  _ you’re--”

“My name, Mr. Tarkin,” Hux said imperiously, “You may recall, is Armitage Hux.” He smirked then, and brought his face very close to Tarkin’s. Tarkin jerked hard against the twine when a silver blade dragged at the fabric on his shoulders. “But you may call me The General.” 

Tarkin went white. “Solo, untie me now,” he said shrilly. “And we won’t. This won’t. I won’t report you.” His breath squealed out of him when Hux flicked his wrist and the fabric at Tarkin’s right shoulder parted. “Fucking christ, what do you think--”

“Don’t look at him,” Hux said sharply. “Look at me.” Tarkin complied. “I did this to you. Do you understand? Me. Ben,” Hux turned his head and smiled at Ben.  _ Warmly.  _ “He’s just here for moral support.” 

“Like you need moral support,” Ben muttered. 

“Alright, observation then,” Hux conceded,still looking back at him. “The point is, I brought you here, not the other way around.” 

“Why?” Tarkin said quickly. “Why me, you, I  _ helped  _ you, I got you off-- and your  _ boss--” _

_ “Snoke was not my boss,”  _ Hux spat and Ben was startled by the sudden venom in his voice. Tarkin went very still again. Ben could see his muscles straining as he silently and sneakily tested the twine. The shadows on the wall, cast by the discarded flashlight rolling around at Ben’s feet, were monstrous. 

“No,” Tarkin said smoothly. “Of course not. I misunderstood. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t grovel. I can’t abide begging.” Hux said conversationally as he leaned over and sliced open the suit jacket at the other shoulder. 

Tarkin started to hyperventilate. “What do you want? Money? I’ve got money. I can get you money--” Hux laughed coldly, and Ben felt another chill. Hux was  _ toying  _ with him. 

“Do you do this to all of them?” Ben asked softly. “Taunt them like this?”

Hux shrugged and straightened, turned toward Ben. “I thought this would make it easier for you. Less abrupt.” 

Ben shook his head. 

“Very well,” Hux said over Tarkin’s gasps and pleas. 

“--whatever you want, I can get it for you, I know people, I know  _ powerful, important  _ people and I can get you  _ literally anything _ \--”  

“Quiet,” Hux commanded, and Tarkin, for once in his life, listened. Ben had heard Hux say that exact thing in that exact way before and felt the room tilt. Hux had told him he was talking to his cat. “Mr. Tarkin. You have nothing to offer me but your death.” 

“ _ No,  _ I, just, wait--”

“I have a question for you, Mr. Tarkin. And I want you to think very carefully before you answer. Are you a  _ good man?”  _

Tarkin gaped, fish-like at Hux. “I. What?” 

“Are you. A  _ good man.  _ Mr. Tarkin.”

“I. I don’t--”

“It shouldn’t be a hard question. Answer it. And I will know if you lie to me. I don’t recommend lying to me.”

I.” Tarkin’s eyes were locked on Hux now, like Ben was entirely forgotten. “No,” he said very softly. “No.”

Hux nodded somberly. “Good. You understand why I’ve come. Are you a God fearing man, Mr. Tarkin?” 

Ben looked at Hux sharply. God?

“No,” Tarkin said. “No. I don’t. I’m not--”

“Then we require no pause for prayer.” Hux tilted forward and three things happened at once: Tarkin opened his mouth and screamed, “ _No, wait!”_ ; Ben felt his heart jump into his throat; and a strong, sure voice that didn’t belong to any of them said, “ _Drop it.”_

Hux froze, still as a statue, the knife dangling from his finger tips. Tarkin’s eyes jumped from Hux’s face to the doorway at Hux and Ben’s backs. Pure relief flooded his features.

The voice took a while to penetrate for Ben. Took far too long to sink into his brain, for all his synapses to connect that sound with a face. 

The voice said again, “ _ Drop the knife. And the gun. Now.”  _

And Ben knew what he’d find if he turned. Knew exactly who was standing behind him pointing a gun at his back. At Hux. Knew exactly who had  _ fucking followed them. _

There was a gun pointed at Hux. 

There was a  _ gun _ . Pointed.  _ At Hux _ .

Hux’s eyes jumped to Ben’s face and Ben knew Hux saw what he intended to do in the split second before he did it. 

Hux jerked back, said, “ _ Ben, no--” _

But Ben had already twisted, gun raised.

Their eyes met across the room, lit only by the flashlight on the floor and the soft glow of moonlight and street lamps from the windows. 

Ben had never seen Rey look so furious and determined. And of course she did. She was vindicated. She’d been right all along and now she knew it.

Ben met her eyes. Watched the instant she realized he saw her. Watched the instant she realized she had gravely miscalculated. Watched her pupils shrink to pinpricks in bone deep, skin tingling fear, like the way your stomach drops when you miss a step, when you start to fall. Like the way your mind whites out when a car pulls out in front of you, or you turn and find someone standing near you when there was supposed to be nothing but air. Watched her realize she wasn’t just in danger anymore. 

She was already dead.

It all happened so quickly. But it wasn’t so quickly that Ben didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he pulled the trigger. 

Hux’s voice was drowned out by a gunshot that filled the room, deafened them all. Rey’s eyes went wide and she took one short step backward, her gun falling to point at the floor. All Ben heard was a high pitched whine, hearing obliterated by his pistol-- but he knew exactly how she would sound. The breath she would suck in. Her heels striking the plywood floor as she stumbled away from him. Her pistol clattering to the ground. Stupid. She should have shot him. She could have. But she didn’t. 

Stupid. 

Her hands drifted up to cover the bloom of red that was growing on her yellow sweater. She fell. 

Ben took three huge steps forward, gun trained on her face, ready to finish the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... 
> 
> You know who has two thumbs and is a sucker for cliff hangers? 
> 
> THIS GIRL! :D?
> 
> (I'm sorry I had to do it I just had to)


	15. Awakening

Ben had to finish the job-- he  _ had to-- _

_ “Ben, stop!”  _ Hux yelled again, and Ben drew up short, only a few steps away from Rey, gun trained on her head. She was staring at him with huge brown eyes, white around the edges, clutching her chest and trying to breath. 

“She  _ followed us!”  _ Ben hissed. “She  _ knows!  _ We can’t-- I can’t-- Hux, they’ll  _ execute you  _ for this, I can’t let her take you away from me-- I told you to leave us alone,  _ why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”  _ Ben screamed at her. She gasped for breath.  

“Put the gun down, Ben!” Hux’s voice was so sure and so firm and so  _ commanding-- _

“But--”

“She’s innocent!” Ben finally turned his head to stare at Hux, at the fire in his hair and the crystal in his eyes, at the sureness and fury etched into the hard lines of his body. Beside him, Tarkin, who had half screamed when Ben’s gun went off, was now very quiet. Probably hoping they’d forgotten about him. 

“But. But she--”

“Is she a good person, Ben?” Hux hissed. Ben stared at him. “Is the world a better place with her in it?” 

“I don’t--”

“Is it better off  _ without _ her?” 

“ _ No,  _ but Hux, she’ll--”

“Just put the gun down.” 

Ben swallowed hard. Lowered his gun. 

Hux eyed Tarkin, then Rey, then Ben, each in turn, and his eyes lingered overlong on Ben, furious and indulgent at the same time. “I need to think. I need to think.” 

“Hux.” 

“Quiet, Ben. Be quiet for  _ once  _ in your life.” He was staring at Rey. She was bleeding out at their feet. 

“Ben--” Ben jumped when Rey whimpered his name, voice almost pleading. He looked down and was horrified to find one of her blood soaked hands stretching for his boot. He took a sharp step back, the idea of that contact making his stomach twist and his mouth go dry and he stared at her. Saw all the shock and fear and  _ betrayal  _ written on her face, and--

“Right,” Hux said suddenly. “Put pressure on the wound.”

“But--”

“ _ Now!”  _

Ben dropped to his knees. Rey stared at him in. Furious terror. Tried to bat his hands away when he pressed them to her chest. Hux promptly turned and killed Tarkin. 

Rey made a sound like air being let out of a balloon very slowly as Hux quickly marked Tarkin’s shoulders before he was even fully dead-- two stars on each shoulder. Then he turned as the pool of blood grew around the stepladder, crossed to Ben and Rey, and grabbed her by the wrist. She struggled, pushed against him, but she couldn’t seem to do much more than squeak with the hole in her chest. Hux forced her fingers to curl around the knife, then smacked her hand away when she adjusted her grip and tried to stab him with it. The knife went skittering across the floor. 

Hux looked at Ben, pointed at Rey, and said, “She did it.”

“ _ What?” _

Hux didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for their bag, wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, and started to peel it off. Ben stared at him blankly as he buttoned himself back into the shirt he’d worn to dinner. Then tied his tie. His leather gloves and shirt he bundled together and set on the ground by them both. “Put your shirt back on. Give me that.” 

Ben did as he was told-- and  _ quickly-- _ as Hux took his place pressing on Rey’s chest. 

“You. You won’t--” Rey gasped.

“Don’t try to talk,” Hux said sharply. “You’ll make it worse.” 

“Hux, what are you--”

“Keep pressure on her chest. Good.” He moved, leaned over and picked up Rey’s gun. “Shoot me.” 

“ _ Fuck no--” _

“I don’t have time to argue with you, Ben. Do it. In the arm. Now.” He stood, moved to stand in front of the door. And Ben understood. Ben understood everything. 

He tightened his grip on Rey’s gun before he could think too hard about it. Hux didn’t even flinch when he swung it up and took aim, his left hand still firmly pressed to the bullet hole in Rey’s chest.

Rey’s gunshot seemed louder than Ben’s had. Hux grunted and clamped his hand over his arm. But Ben had aimed well. The bullet lodged in the wall behind him after it clipped his right bicep. A few drops of blood spattered the ground by the door. 

“Call in an officer down. Do it now,” Hux demanded, voice breathy and filtered through gritted teeth. Ben was done arguing. He dropped the gun by his knee, pulled out his phone and made the call, hands still desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from Rey’s chest, phone clamped between shoulder and ear. Hux gathered up their bloody shirts and gloves and stashed them in a half completed wall. They’d left their dress shoes in the car; there was nothing else in the duffel that linked them to it.

“This is Detective Ben Solo, I have an officer down, repeat, officer down-- Detective Rey Kenobi. Gunshot wound to the chest. And. And an injured civilian. Gunshot wound to the arm. Hurry.” Ben gave the address and hung up the phone without waiting for the confirmation or giving any more detail on what had happened. 

“She came to my apartment,” Hux told Ben. “She raved about needing you. About how you had to come back and when you refused, she got angry. Told you she’d make you change your mind.” Ben listened with rapt attention and tried not to think of how small Rey was beneath their hands, of the furious way she was staring at them, of the way her eyes were going glassy and her skin was getting pale and she was still trying to push them away. Each breath sounded like it pained her. There was blood on her lips.

In the distance, Ben heard sirens. “She asked you to meet her here. You weren’t going to, but I convinced you it was a good idea. I wanted you to go back to work. When we got here--”

“It was her,” Ben spat, finally catching on. It was. It wasn’t a  _ bad plan.  _ “She had Tarkin tied up. She said she would kill him for me. Like she killed Bell.”

“Yes. Yes, exactly Ben.” 

“She. I met you both the same day. She. She  _ emailed my professors weeks ago.  _ They might buy this, this is, this is-- but, Hux. This won’t--”

“Hold up, I know.” He glanced down. “But it will buy us time. Trust me. Can you do that?” 

“Yes. God, of cour--”

Rey jerked under their hands and they both looked down to find the tiny, pained way she had been wiggling beneath their palms was not without purpose. She’d been inching for her own gun, the one Ben had  _ stupidly  _ discarded so close at hand. She yanked it from the ground and whipped it up, angling toward Hux.

Hux was faster than Ben. He locked his fingers around her wrist, pushed the barrel of the gun away from him as Ben lurched forward to peel the weapon from her fingers. There was a flash from the barrell. Ben’s heart stopped when all sound was obliterated for a third time and something hit him on the back of his shoulder. 

No. That wasn’t right. Not--

“ _ Ben!” _

Hux’s voice sent a thrill of terror through him, bone deep and so chilling that for one horrible moment his brain blanked into white nothing. What the  _ fuck  _ could possibly make Hux yell like that? Ben was staring at the ceiling. Why was he--?

Ben lifted his head and understanding slammed into him with the white hot pain that raced from the center of his left shoulder to the tips of his fingers and toes: Rey had shot him. 

Hux lurched into his line of sight, eyes cracked and frantic in a way that made Ben’s heart ache. “Ben, Ben, look at me, are you--”

Ben brought his right hand to his shoulder and gasped, “ _ Fuck.”  _

Hux grabbed Ben by the front of his shirt, even as his eyes seemed to shatter with pure, heart breaking relief. 

Ben hissed, “ _ Bitch,”  _ as Hux pressed his hand to Ben’s shoulder, his own wound momentarily forgotten. But Ben didn’t have time to worry about his burning, throbbing shoulder, about the blood falling in a steady stream down his back and chest. Rey had rolled onto her stomach and was crawling away. “No--” Ben heard himself spit, voice furious and dark and not at all like his own. He lurched forward, grabbed Rey by the ankle and yanked her toward him, losing track of everything around him in that moment except for the pure blinding  _ rage  _ of  _ Rey had fucking shot him. _

He had her around the knee now and he was going to fucking  _ strangle  _ her-- nevermind her screaming, nevermind Hux calling his name and pulling  _ hard  _ on his wounded shoulder, nevermind how badly that  _ hurt,  _ she had  _ shot him  _ and he was going to  _ fucking murder her.  _

Hux screamed, “The knife!” just as Rey rolled over and slashed wildly. Ben was crouched over her, pulling her toward him, reaching to curl the fingers of his good hand around her skinny little throat and  _ squeeze  _ and it was only Hux’s warning that kept him from losing his fucking eye. Instead, he jerked back, felt more white hot fire race along his face from forehead to jaw, and then Hux was shoving him away, catching Rey’s wrists in strong, firm hands, twisting until she dropped the knife again. He slapped her hard and her furious screams stopped. 

All Ben saw was red. “ _ Sonofamotherfucking cunt bitch--”  _ He had to squeeze his eye shut to keep the blood out of it. He didn’t know if he should worry about his face or his shoulder and his good hand hovered awkwardly in the air over his chest. 

“Are you alright?” Hux asked breathlessly. He had both Rey’s wrists trapped under one hand and was putting all his weight on her chest-- simultaneously stemming the flow of blood and keeping her locked painfully in place. 

“ _ No, I’m not alright,”  _ Ben screamed back. “She  _ shot me.  _ She  _ fucking cut me,  _ jesus fuck--” There was really. Quite a lot of blood.

Ben looked over at her and he could see it in her eyes. How furious she was. How much she wanted to. To make him pay for what he had done. He was glad he was with Hux then. Rey was small, but without Hux there to hold her down and to keep Ben grounded, he knew in that moment he would have either killed her or gotten killed himself. 

Stupid. So stupid. They’d both underestimated her. And she’d ruined everything.

Hux looked down again when Rey let off another pathetic cough. “Don’t die on us now, darling,” he said, voice furious and eerily cheerful. Ben could hear the bite of pain in it and anger. Rey had  _ ruined. Everything. _ “I’d hate for Ben to have innocent blood on his hands,” he added darkly. 

Rey was trying to speak. There was a. An angry little grin on her face. “What are you saying?” Hux muttered. He leaned down, and Rey said very clearly, “Phasma.” 

Hux rolled his eyes.

Rey’s face fell. 

And then her eyes fluttered closed. 

The sirens were getting closer. 

“We should get downstairs,” Ben said suddenly, realizing in a dizzy, detached sort of way that his phone had been lighting up silently on the floor beside them-- dispatch and Phasma both calling him non-stop. “I didn’t give them any details. They’ll come in guns blazing if they think they’ve got an active shooter.” 

“Then let’s move her. I’ll lift her, you keep pressure. Ready?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Good. One, two, three.” 

Hux hauled Rey up with a grunt of pain. Ben tilted forward and beared down on her chest with one hand. His left arm was bleeding freely, hanging stiffly at his side, and he couldn’t help the hiss of pain that leached from his lips when they stood. The room spun. He’d lost. A lot of blood.

They door to the office bang noisily open when they reached the landing on the second floor. Ben and Hux exchanged glances, but then they heard Phasma scream, “Police!” as a warning. 

“Up here,” Hux called. 

Phasma appeared at the foot of the stairs and gasped. “My god, are you-- what did you  _ do?”  _

“She caught us in the act,” Ben sneered at the same time that Hux snapped, “Ben shot her.” 

“Is she--” 

“She’s still alive and we called dispatch,” Hux answered. 

“What’s the  _ plan?”  _

“We’ve got it covered,” Hux said as they staggered to the door. “The police will be here any minute, and the ambulances. Uncover my plates for me,” Hux demanded. “When they arrive, tell them you got a call from Rey, that she was raving about Ben and Tarkin, that you were worried, and you got her to tell you where she was. You came here. You found us. Go, fix the car, now!” 

Blue lights were flashing at the end of the street. Ben and Hux set Rey down and waited, hands covering her wound. Phasma dashed away and Ben watched her yank the covers off of Hux’s license plates; Hux quickly hit the remote on his keys after awkwardly fishing them out of his pocket with the wrong hand. She tossed them in and shut the door again, raced back across the street, and dropped to her knees just as the first car rolled into view. She pushed Ben aside and took his place tending to Rey. 

“Worry about that arm,” she told him. 

Hux nodded grimly as Ben sat back on the pavement. Hux looked, very suddenly, like a man who had just been shot. Ben didn’t even want to think about what he looked like himself.

Three more cars squealed into place, and Phasma lifted one bloody hand. Hux hissed, “Say as little as possible. Stay close to us. Let us talk first.” 

“Got it,” Phasma muttered out of the corner of her mouth. 

“Detective Phasma, S-Solo!” The first officer called. Ben couldn’t remember his name. “What-- my god, is that Kenobi? Solo-- what?”

“She shot us,” Hux said weakly, voice high pitched and strained. “That crazy bitch just  _ shot us--”  _ The officer slowed, hand on his gun. 

“What, what happened here--” 

“Kenobi went off the fucking deep end,” Ben growled. “Fired on us without warning.” 

“She what--” An ambulance squealed to a stop and they all turned to look. The rest of the officers were piling out of their cars. 

“I had to do it!” Ben said gruffly, trying to move his mouth as little as possible. His face was on  _ fire. _ “She was going to  _ kill us--” _ Phasma was looking at him, white faced and amazed. 

“You--you shot Detective Kenobi, sir?” the officer pressed.

“Yeah, yeah, I did it, get her into the ambulance, quick!” 

The officer turned and waved the EMTs over. 

“There’s no other--”

“No, no threat, no shooter. She killed. Tarkin. He’s inside, third floor. It’s her, she’s the General.” 

Phasma, the officers within earshot, and the EMTs all ground to a stop and stared at him. Ben stared grimly back, trying to ignore the way his vision was going fuzzy at the edges.

“It was all her.” 

“Fuck are you doing, go, go, go!” Phasma shouted suddenly, because all the officers and the EMTs were staring at Ben in complete shock. 

The EMTs sprung back into action, knocked Hux away and scooped Rey’s limp body onto a gurney. The first officer bent and started to put his hands on Ben but Ben shrugged him away. “Help Hux--” 

Hux’s disbelieving laughter broke through all the noise in Ben’s head and Ben realized the officer was trying to haul him to his feet. When he shoved him away a second time, Phasma and Hux both gripped him under the shoulders and tugged him up, making him scream in pain, making his head spin. Hux edged his way under Ben’s good arm. “We need to get you on an ambulance too,” he hissed. Ben thought of arguing but then he realized the only reason he was still standing was because Hux was holding him up and he decided to spare himself the pain of talking.

A second ambulance arrived just as the first was closing its doors. The EMTs jumped out and Ben found himself being ushered into the back with Hux close behind. Phasma yelled, “I’ll meet you at the hospital!” just as the doors closed. 

Someone was putting pressure on Ben’s shoulder and  _ goddamn it  _ did that fucking hurt. A big gauze pad was laid against his face. They made him lay down. 

The ambulance ride was a blur; Ben really didn’t remember it. All he knew was that Hux took ahold of his hand and never let go. Not once.

 

~~~

 

Ben paced the waiting room because when he sat down, he felt like his skin was on fire, like his head was screaming at him, like his bones were going to rattle out of his flesh. Or like he was going to pass out. Maybe both.

“Benny, _sit down,”_ Poe said tiredly, head in his hands. “You’re making us all anxious. You shouldn’t be standing like that anyway. You got _shot._ ” 

Finn grunted in agreement. Phasma didn’t say anything. 

“It’s taking too long,” Ben snapped. “He should be out by now.” 

Ben’s face was still mostly numb from the meds, but his shoulder was throbbing. The hole in his shoulder had been clean, a through and through, and so once they’d packed and bandaged it, they’d put all their attention on his face. Ben had been surprised to find that that was the more dangerous wound, once sheer blood loss was counteracted. Rey had slashed him from the center of his forehead, across his nose and down over his left cheek-- just missing his eye-- all the way to his jaw. The knife had gone bone deep over his nose and jaw and Ben had laid on a fucking table for the better part of two hours while they carefully stitched him up with tiny, painstaking sutures that made him look like the goddamn son of Frankenstein. 

Hux had refused to leave his side to have his own wound tended until they were done. Ben had refused more than the most basic level of treatment, even though they’d wanted to keep him overnight. The head nurse had been so fed up with the both of them, she’d forced Ben out into the waiting room while they took care of Hux.

“It was just a flesh wound,” Poe muttered. “They said he’d be fine. You’re worse off than him and Rey’s the one--” Ben forced himself to make a disgusted sound and Poe said, “I. Right. Right. Sorry.” 

Ben glanced at Phasma and she looked away, refused to meet his eyes. Ben understood. Phasma  _ liked  _ Rey. Even if she cared about covering for Ben and Hux and herself more. Even if she’d shoot Rey herself if she had to to keep the three of them out of trouble. She still  _ liked  _ Rey.

“I still can’t--” Finn said softly. “I mean.”

“She  _ shot  _ Hux!” Ben insisted for the umpteenth time. “I  _ had  _ to do it. And then she went and-- look at my  _ face!” _

“I just can’t believe it.” Poe was whispering too. “She. I mean. She seemed so.” 

“She’s a psychopath,” Phasma muttered, sounding not the slightest bit convinced. Then she looked at Ben. “People like that are good at lying.” 

Ben ground his teeth. “Yeah. They are.” 

“But. The General?” Finn pressed, finally lifting his head out of his hands. “It doesn’t make sense. You said he was a man, for one--”

“I was wrong,” Ben said firmly. “You should have seen her, Finn. She was. Nuts. Raving about. About our grandfathers and how we were. Our  _ destinies  _ were linked.”

“She sounded deranged when she called me,” Phasma inserted. “I knew something was up but I never thought…”

“That doesn’t sound like Rey,” Poe said. 

“What about your grandfathers?” Finn asked. 

Ben flapped a hand. “It. My grandfather. He. He murdered Ben Kenobi. I didn’t think Rey knew. But. I guess.”   

“What?” Finn hissed. 

Poe shook his head. “Later, baby.” 

Finn put his head back in his hands.   
Luke and Leia returned from the snack machine holding an arm full of chocolate bars and soda. Leia took one look at Ben and said, “Sit _down,_ Benjamin. _Now.”_ She was using her best Mom(™) voice and Ben finally sank into the nearest chair with a scowl. Not moving made his head feel fuzzy, made him want to lay down and sleep. It. It _really_ hurt. Fucking _Rey._

The room fell silent. Instead of breaking the tension, Luke only added to it when he said, “Any word on--?” 

“No,” Ben and Poe both said, a little too quickly.

“You call Dad?” Ben asked half-heartedly when the resulting silence was far to thick.

A shadow passed over Leia’s face. “Course I did, sweetie. He’s coming back into town tomorrow, he said.”

“He doesn’t have to do that--” Ben groaned. That was wrong. This was wrong. He was. Groaning about his dad. Trying to make his mother feel better about the fact that he’d been shot and. She was going to find out what had really happened. They all were. Maybe not today, but. But,  _ soon,  _ unless Hux did something truly miraculous. 

He was going to be  _ sick.  _ Leia.  _ Leia.  _ His  _ mother  _ was going to find out that  _ he and Hux-- _

Ben lurched to his feet and slammed his fist three times against the bandage at his shoulder and  _ fuck  _ did that hurt but it cleared his head, knocked the lump out of his throat. He was no good to Hux if he couldn’t think straight, if he was so worried about his  _ mother  _ that he turned into an emotional mess. Or. More of one than he already was.  

Han at least. Han would be okay. Ben always knew Han saw him for what he really was. Not like Leia. Leia saw him for everything he could be, everything he would be if he could just be  _ better. _ But not Han. Han understood him; he always had. When Ben threw tantrums as a kid, had gotten into fights as a teenager, had almost crashed his car drunk driving in college, it was Leia who’d looked disappointed-- it was Han who’d looked concerned. Not surprised. Never surprised.  Han had no misconceptions about who Ben was as a person, what he was capable of. Han had always seen Ben for exactly what he was.

Han wouldn’t be surprised. 

Ben couldn’t think about the rest of them. About Luke. About Poe. 

“ _ Benjamin,”  _ Leia groaned when Ben hit himself. He’d had a habit of doing that as a kid and she’d always hated it. In high school, he’d broken his hand in wrestling practice and didn’t tell anyone until after the competition a week later-- just punched a wall before every practice and match until all the endorphins made it stop hurting, used the sharp pain before that to get his blood pumping, get him ready to fight. Leia had looked sick to her stomach when he told her what he’d been doing. 

Han had thought it was funny.

Ben shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to lose himself in memory. He needed to  _ focus.  _

“Honey, walk with me,” Leia interrupted his pacing and thoughts and Ben turned to stare at her, trying to come up with some reason for why he couldn’t go. He couldn’t be alone with her. Not now, not after what he and Hux had  _ done.  _ Ben had  _ shot Rey.  _

“I--” 

“Come on,” she said sharply, her tone some cross between Senator and Mom. Ben went. 

Once they were out of earshot of everyone else, Leia said, “I want you to come home tonight.” 

“What? No. Mom. I’m going back to Hux’s.” 

“Please, just come stay with me, Benny. You’ve been  _ shot.  _ And sliced. Let your mother take care of you for once.” 

“I’m gonna let my  _ boyfriend  _ take care of me,” Ben muttered.

“He doesn’t seem like the doting type.” 

“I don’t want to be doted on.”

Leia stared up at him for a long time and Ben realized they’d stopped in front of the soda machines. Ben turned and bought a cherry coke so he wouldn’t have to look at her. He caught his reflection in the glass on the snack machine before he could turn back. He looked like Carrie after those asshole kids had dumped blood on her. His hair was slicked from his face with it. His shirt was stiff and flaking and somehow even blacker than normal-- sliced open to the shoulder and dangling around his sling. His gray slacks were drenched too. When he turned back to Leia, she was staring at his feet. 

“Those shoes don’t match your belt,” she told him with a weak smile. A pitiful attempt at levity. 

It made Ben want to throw up. He and Hux needed to get out before someone else realized their  _ boots  _ didn’t exactly match their dress shirts and ties. 

Ben took a swig from the soda bottle and Leia’s eyes softened. “Are you sure you’re okay, Ben?” 

“Fuck, I dunno, Mom, I shot my partner,” Ben snapped. “Hux got shot. I got-- fuck. I dunno. Just. I need to go home. I need to get Hux and go home, okay? Can you just let me go home?”  Ben half shouted the last part and Leia took a step back, pain flashing across her face. Ben hit himself on the shoulder again. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t. It’s been a long night. I just need to sleep,” Ben said softly. Leia nodded. Impulsively, he curled forward and hugged her, hard. 

Leia sniffed and her shoulders shook. “I’m so glad you’re alive. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d-- if she’d--” 

Ben jerked away from her then, turned and marched stiff legged back to the waiting room because he wanted to cry. He wanted to let her hold him forever. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he’d never been the son she deserved. Never. 

Instead, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he forced her to follow him back in silence. 

 

~~~

 

When Hux finally emerged from the door they wouldn’t let Ben go back through, Ben practically ran to him. He kissed Hux hard on the mouth, though it hurt, and he didn’t let Hux go even when he hissed, “Ow, Ben, my arm.” 

Ben finally pulled away and looked at the thick bandage around Hux’s bicep, at the sling his arm was resting in. His shirt was covered in blood and they’d cut it up to the shoulder to reach Hux’s wound. Ben kissed him again. 

Hux made a distressed sound and brushed the blood-flaking hair from his face. “Look what she did to you.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. You heard them. Barely a scar with all these little stitches.”

Hux said, “Is she--?”

“She’s still in surgery,” Ben whispered back. “We won’t know anything until they’re done.” 

Hux’s eyes snapped from Ben’s face, to Finn and Poe, staring at them both. Hux patted Ben on his good shoulder and said, “Ben. She was going to kill me. You. Did what you had to do.” 

Ben ignored the swooping in his stomach and the way his skin tingled when he said, “I know.” He turned back to the room and saw Phasma roll her eyes. Poe and Finn didn’t notice. 

This was almost going too smoothly.  
Leia looked at Hux and sighed, “Thank god. Are you alright, dear?” 

“I’m quite alright, Ms. Organa, thank you,” Hux said stiffly. “I’ve been shot before. It was much worse than this. Ben really took the brunt of it.” He frowned as he said that and Leia glared at Ben. She’d been telling him for the past twenty minutes to sit down before he hurt himself. Ben rolled his eyes and Leia crossed the room to give Hux a one armed hug, heedless of the blood on his shirt. After all, her nightshirt was already ruined from hugging Ben like his life depended on it the moment she had seen him, blood drenched and white faced as he had been, and again in front of the soda machine.

“Who shot you?” Finn asked half heartedly. 

Hux shrugged his good shoulder. “Took a bullet to the shoulder while I was in the army. Nothing too serious, but. Worse than this.” 

“You all should go home,” Luke interrupted, eyes on Leia, who looked exhausted in the stiff waiting room chair. “Get some sleep. Ben, you really should let them admit you. Those aren’t tiny scratches--” 

“I’m fine,” Ben snapped. “Don’t you want to take our statements? Sir?” 

Luke scrubbed a hand over his face. “In the morning, Ben. Just. In the morning.” 

Ben nodded.

“You’ll have to drive,” Hux said sleepily. “They gave me some medication.” Ben glanced at him in surprise; he’d declined the strong stuff himself. Hux scowled and muttered, “They didn’t give me a choice.”

Ben nodded, accepted the keys. “I’ll walk with you,” Phasma said, a little too quickly. 

Ben left without saying goodbye to anyone, without even hugging Leia. He only paused long enough to say, “Call me when we know something.” 

They didn’t speak until they reached Hux’s car, waiting for them in the parking garage-- Finn had picked it up from the scene for them while Ben was getting his face stitched. Phasma broke the silence. 

“What the fuck is the plan, Hux?” she demanded. “You know this won’t hold up. You’ve got a few days, tops, assuming she wakes up, before her story and the scene start adding up.” 

“I know,” Hux said grimly. “I need some time to get things in order. Right now, we need to focus on covering our tracks.” He paused, looked at Phasma. “We’re lucky she called you and not Finn or Poe.”  

“Yeah,” Phasma sighed. “Lucky I got us reassigned.” 

“You should have called me.” 

“Your phone was already off by then,” Phasma snapped. “She told me where you were. Said she spotted you and Ben sneaking into an office building.”

“She didn’t call dispatch?” Ben muttered. 

Phasma glared at him, and he’d never seen her look at him like that. Like she was disgusted with him. “I think she wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself. She knew what she was looking at. She hoped it wasn’t true.” 

Ben scowled at the ground. If she’d just kept her fucking nose in her own business this wouldn’t have happened. None of this--

“Take me home, Ben. Phasma, stay by the phone. I’ll call if I need you. And. Get ready.” 

Phasma nodded grimly. “I’m trusting you here, Hux,” she said softly. “You pulled me into this.” She was right. She’d uncovered Hux’s plates before the uniforms could show up and notice. There was footage of it; the parking garage next to the new office would have caught it. She was in it. And there was evidence now. 

“Have I ever let you down?” Hux asked, voice clipped, but also amused. Phasma scowled and shook her head.

Ben felt strange behind the wheel of Hux’s car. He hadn’t driven any of Hux’s cars since their first date. 

“How are you? Are you sure you’re alright to drive?” 

“I’m. Fucking hurts, but I’m okay. I’ll be alright.”

Ben threw the car into drive and Hux nodded curtly, all his concern pushed aside to deal with the matter at hand. “Alright, think Ben. Where will they catch us?” 

“I need to go to the station,” Ben said. “Check her files. She decided to follow us when she saw this car. There must have been. Sightings of it at some of the scenes.” 

“Good. What else?” 

Ben’s eyes glazed over the road as he drove. It was either very early, or very late; the road was empty. “They’ll find the shirts and the gloves once they comb the scene. That’ll take. Fuck, a day at most. Less if Poe and BB-8 show up. Another day to process them, and for someone with half a brain to make the connection. It’ll take at least that long to get Rey’s phone records. After they see those, they’ll call for Phasma’s, see how many times she called us both after talking to Rey.”

“That’s not terribly suspicious.” 

“It will be to the team-- if she was really worried why not call Finn or Poe too? Or even Luke? Why call us both so many times but not Rey again? Why didn’t we answer? Then the little things-- the blood spatter, where Rey was standing when she was shot, where we were standing. They’ll put it all together, see it matches with Rey’s story. Assuming. She wakes up.”

“You better hope she does,” Hux muttered. 

“What? Why? It’d be easier for us if she just stayed down.”

Hux turned his head and Ben felt something cold slither down his spine. “If Detective Kenobi dies. If you've murdered an innocent woman--”

“To  _ protect  _ us--”

Hux looked at him darkly and said, “I've killed for less.”

Ben stared at him and only looked away when he almost veered onto the sidewalk. “Baby, are you saying you'd--”

“They’ll start to suspect after the shirts,” Hux mused, cutting him off. Ben swallowed hard and forced the thought from his head. Hux couldn't. He wouldn't. Not _Ben--_ He slammed his fist against his shoulder. Hux ignored him. “That will be the first clue that something is off with our story. They’ll start watching us after that. So. We have. A day at most.” 

“Unless we make the shirts disappear. Then we might have a week. Tops.” 

“Alright. Take me home. Then you go back to the station and handle her files. I’ll call Phasma and see if she can go retrieve the shirts.” 

“What are you gonna do?” 

Hux smirked grimly. “Prepare. We won’t need a week.”

Ben nodded. They had a plan. 

 

~~~

 

Rey’s files were. Extensive. Her investigation into Hux was incredibly thorough. And the files she had on all the victims were impressive, to say the least. Ben leafed quickly through her drawers until he found what he was looking for-- security shots of Hux’s Accura. He had covered the plates when they left the restaurant-- Ben assumed he did that every time because not one picture showed them. Ben tucked that file under a stack on his own eerily clean desk, along with the file she had on Hux. Everything else, he left as it was. 

He didn’t bother destroying the files, or cleaning out his own desk-- although he did leave a note in the center drawer. In a few hours time, Mitaka and Wexley, or maybe even Finn and Poe would be crawling all over Rey’s desk. Ben only needed to buy a few hours. By the time they thought to check Ben’s, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

He was lucky the station was so bare in the wee hours of the morning. No one saw him slip outside and climb back into Hux’s murder car. 

His phone buzzed as he settled behind the wheel. Poe. 

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Benny. Thought you should know, Rey’s out of surgery.” Ben’s chest constricted and without really thinking about it, he slammed his shoulder with his fist.  _ Focus. _ “She’ll be alright. Doc says she should be awake in a few hours.” 

“Good,” Ben ground out. “She can stand trial.” 

“Ben, are you. Are you sure--”

“I did what I had to do, Poe. She. She forced my hand. I didn’t want. I didn’t want to.” 

Ben hung up, then, the confession cold on his lips.  _ He’d done what he had to do. _

His shoulder throbbed and it kept him from getting sucked into his head, kept him grounded and _furious_ because he shouldn’t be in so much _pain,_ he shouldn’t be having to deal with _any_ of this and if Rey had just _done what he’d told her to do--_

He pulled back out into the street. Then he called Hux.

“She’s out.”

“The files?” 

“Hidden for now.”

“Good. Phasma can’t get the shirts; the scene is slammed with investigators and reporters. Go back to the hospital. Make sure Rey doesn’t start talking before everything is ready.” 

“Got it. And. And baby?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” 

Hux was silent as Ben clicked on his blinker and shrugged his good shoulder, struggling to make the turn one handed. When Hux spoke, his voice was soft. Tired. Warm. 

“I know.”  
  
~~~

 

Rey didn’t have any family. Phasma was out doing whatever it was Hux had needed of her after she tried for the shirts. Finn and Poe were handling photos and evidence from the newest scene. Luke was handling the press, trying to keep things quiet. Leia had gone home after Ben and Hux had. 

So that left Ben. Alone. Waiting. 

It was mid-morning by the time Rey stirred and opened her eyes. Ben quickly sent a text, and then pocketed his phone. She blinked sleepily, looked around the room. But she didn’t come fully awake until she saw Ben.

He smiled grimly when she sucked in a breath, when she jerked her arms and the clink of the handcuff at her wrist broke the silence. In a panic, her eyes jumped from the cuff to the uniformed police officer guarding her room just visible through the window into the hallway.

There was sheer horror in her eyes when Ben said too softly, “I told you to stay away.” 

Rey didn’t say anything, but Ben saw her free hand creeping across the bedclothes. He held up the call button. “Looking for this?” 

She only blinked at him. She was staring at Ben as if he was a monster who’d just appeared at the foot of her bed, all shadows and teeth and claws and bloodlust. 

He supposed to her, he was. 

“You know this won’t hold up, Ben,” she said carefully. “No matter what you do to me. I have alibis. Real alibis. I have files. Evidence--”

“I know.” 

“Then what--”

“Buying time. You fucked up everything. I told you to stay away.” 

“It was you.” 

“No. Not until Bell. I didn’t know anything until then.”

“But you--”

“I killed Bell,” Ben said very clearly. “Not Hux. Not the General. Me.”

“How did--”

“Not important.”

“Why are you here?” she whispered, and her voice cracked. “You. I won’t let you--”

“Just to watch. Make sure you don't go blabbing until we're ready,” Ben admitted. “And. I. I have a favor to ask.” 

“A  _ favor?”  _

Ben nodded. “Tell my mom I’m sorry.” 

“ _ What?”  _

Ben shrugged one shoulder. Rey’s eyes focused on the sling, the lump of bandages beneath his fresh shirt. He gave her a crooked grin. “It’ll kill her,” he whispered. “When she finds out. Tell her I’m sorry.” Rey just stared at him. 

Ben pushed his hair out of his eyes and found his hand was shaking. Rey’s pupils shrunk to little pinpricks when the motion fully uncovered the long slice across his face; the bandages were starting to feel heavy and sticky and they dragged when he smiled or spoke or blinked. They were probably just a little bloody. 

“Admiring your handiwork?” His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, horribly bitter; he didn’t sound like himself, but he couldn’t seem to stop speaking and his next words came out a low, furious growl. “A hundred and sixty two stitches. Impressive right? I get to spend the rest of my life seeing  _ you  _ every time I look in the mirror.” The meds had worn off. Talking was a fucking nightmare. Rey flinched when Ben ground his teeth so hard they squealed. “Thank Hux next time you see him,” he whispered, trying to move his jaw as little as possible; the result was a horrible breathy hiss that would have made Ben wince if he wasn’t the one speaking. “He’s the only reason you’re still alive. I woulda killed you.” The words hung in the air between them, terrible and heavy and disgustingly true.

“Why didn’t you?” she whispered back. 

“Whatever comes out. Whatever happens. Hux had-- has-- a code. The people he killed. They deserved it. Remember that when you’re making your reports. He was never cruel. He was never angry. He did it because it had to be done and there was no one else to do it. They deserved it. You didn’t fit the bill. Not for him.”

“For you?”

“My code’s a little less rigorous. I only care about one thing. You pointed a  _ gun at his back,  _ Rey _.  _ The fuck did you expect me to do?” 

“Ben,” she said desperately, jerking so hard the cuff clinked. “Stop this. You can. Bell was a  _ murderer  _ and he threatened you and-- I know you care about Hux, but if he, if he made you, we can, you can get a deal, be out in, ten, fifteen years, maybe-- maybe less if you  _ give up--” _

Ben opened his mouth to reply, but then Hux stepped into the room and Rey choked on her air. 

He looked as devastating as always. He’d showered, changed. His hair was brushed back from his face and his shirt was pressed under the sling and Ben felt his heart clench, knowing he’d caused Hux that pain. Knowing he’d shot him. But it had been  _ Rey’s fault.  _ Hux looked at Rey coldly, then looked back to Ben. “It’s time.” 

Ben nodded. 

Hux’s eyes slowly tracked back to Rey and Ben saw her shudder when they landed on her. He showed her everything. Everything he had only let Ben see in this past month. All his icy chill, all his fury and superiority, all his disgust. Rey looked back at Ben and she was terrified. 

It made Ben’s heart speed up in his chest, to see someone like Rey so afraid of the man he loved. The man who loved him. In spite of himself, he smiled.

“Ben. Ben, look at me, don’t do this, you don’t have to do this--” Rey hissed.

Hux laughed. Ben’s voice was dark and warm and he was staring at Hux when he said, “You’ve misunderstood, Rey. Hux never made me do a goddamn thing. Not once. Not ever. I did it because I wanted to.”

“ _ Please--”  _ Rey said sharply, but Hux was already crossing to her IV. Rey opened her mouth to scream and Ben snapped out to clamp his hand over her lips, eyes on the window to make sure no one was paying attention. She screamed anyway. And bit his hand. Ben winced, but didn’t pull away and the two of them watched Hux reveal a syringe he’d been concealing. He jabbed it into her IV line and her muffled screams grew. 

“Calm down, you silly girl. It’s only morphine.” 

Ben held his hand in place as Rey’s free hand went slack. Then her eyes rolled back. He let her go. 

He looked up at Hux. Hux said, “She’ll be out for a few more hours at least. Let’s go.” 

“Good timing,” Ben muttered as they both stepped back out into the main corridor. Ben nodded to the uniformed officer there, tried to appear casual. 

“Yes. What did you talk about?” 

“I-- nothing,” Ben said too quickly. “Nothing.”

Hux stared at him as they walked, lips pursed, and Ben knew his lie hadn’t gone unnoticed. But Hux didn’t press him. 

“Benny--” 

They both looked up when Poe called. 

Seeing his face hit Ben like a bullet. Once Ben had loved him  _ so much.  _ Once Ben had wanted nothing but Poe.  _ Nothing  _ but to make Poe happy. He thought of the last time they’d fucked-- and. No. They’d made love. One last time. Before Ben found Hux. Before Poe let himself start to love Finn. And it had been  _ so good _ . Ben stared at Poe and tried to remember what it felt like, what Poe had felt like. 

But he didn’t feel a thing.  

“Is she awake yet?” Poe pressed, adjusting the file in his hand. 

Ben shook his head. “No. And. We can’t. After what she did. I can’t stay there anymore,” he lied. 

Poe nodded grimly. “Sure, yeah. Course. Hey, have you heard from Phasma?” Poe pressed. Ben shook his head. “Finn can’t get ahold of her.” 

“She really liked Rey,” Hux said conversationally. “I imagine this is. Hard for her.” 

“Hard for all of us,” Poe muttered. 

Hux took Ben’s hand and squeezed. They’d been standing here too long. They needed to go. “I’ll see you-- later-- Poe.” His voice cracked on ‘later.’ 

Poe looked at him more carefully, eyes going soft and concerned. “Ben. Are you sure you’re alright? You--”

Ben threw his arms around Poe’s shoulders and squeezed. Hux didn’t move. Poe squeezed back, slightly surprised, and Ben whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

“What? Ben. It’s. I know you didn’t mean--” 

But Ben was already pulling away, dragging his wrist (carefully) across his unbandaged cheek, taking Hux’s free hand. “See ya, Poe. See ya.”

They left Poe standing in the hallway, staring after Ben with his brows furrowed, biting his lip. 

Ben sniffed noisely in the elevator. 

“Are you alright?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Fine.” 

Hux didn’t push him. 

 

~~~

 

Phasma met them at the airport. It was a small, privately owned operation. A tiny, but luxurious plane was waiting for them, the pilot lounging casually by the stairs leading inside. Hux told Ben not to worry about any of the luggage-- the staff would handle it. Hux only bothered himself with grabbing Millie’s carrier. She mewed plaintively from inside.

“Mr. Hux,” the pilot set amicably. 

Too quickly they were on the plane, buckled in, waiting for takeoff. A single attendant smiled at the three of them and offered them wine. Ben’s mouth watered, but Hux waved her away. Millie meowed again.

“Where are we going?” Ben asked, voice hoarse. 

“Ireland,” Hux replied. “For a day or so. I have resources there, and a second home in the countryside. From there, we can disappear. Wherever you want to go.” 

Phasma peered out the window and grinned. She and Hux both had the same tired yet jittery sort of energy, and Ben understood. They didn’t have any family. No friends, really-- not anyone important at least. For them, this was just a new adventure. 

Ben thought of Rey, handcuffed to her hospital bed, Poe waiting beside her. He thought of the look on Poe’s face when Rey told him the truth. He thought of Luke. He thought of Leia. 

“Oh. Here,” Hux said suddenly, and he pulled two passports out of his back pocket. One he handed to Phasma. The other, to Ben.   
Ben flipped it open and saw his own face staring back at him. “How did you get this so quickly?” 

“I had the foresight to have it made a couple weeks ago. I have several of my own, and for Phasma, and I thought it prudent to have at least one for you as well. There should be three more waiting for us at my home when we land.”

Ben stared hard at the fake passport. It was perfect. No way to tell it was a fake. He had a new name, too. Kylo Ren. 

He liked it. 

The plane suddenly came to life, started rolling away, and Hux leaned his head back against the seat sleepily. He looked lazily at Kylo and smiled. 

Kylo’s stomach rolled over. He’d always wanted to see Ireland. He’d always wanted to see far more of the world than he had. “What will we do?” he heard himself ask, without really knowing what answer he expected. Hux blinked at him and his voice was distant, fading. He hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours. He’d been shot. He’d been drugged.

“There are other cities to clean up.” 

Kylo felt a thrill shoot through him, an electric pulse that made his heart race and his stomach clench and he leaned over and kissed Hux so hard that Hux,  _ Hux  _ actually moaned softly into his mouth. Of course, that might have been the drugs talking. 

Phasma made a half amused, half disgusted sound and said, “I need a drink.” 

Kylo took Hux’s hand and squeezed. Hux squeezed back. 

And then they were in the air. 

They were free. 

  
*******  
  
Poe stared at the report from Tarkin’s crime scene and didn’t really see it. He was exhausted. His head was pounding and there was a strange twitch in the back of his mind, a tickle he couldn’t quite shake. His absent thoughts traced back to Ben and Hux. To the way Ben had hugged him. The way he’d been crying. Poe didn’t blame him. He’d been forced to shoot his partner for God’s sake. And he’d gotten himself all cut and shot to hell in the process. 

Rey had been moaning in her sleep for the past hour; she finally came awake all at once with a gasp that was half scream. Poe jumped in his seat with a crackling of paper and said, “Jesus Christ.” 

“P-poe. Poe. Poe! Oh my go-- Poe!”

Poe’s voice was dark and distant when he said, “Careful. You’ll pull your stitches.” 

“Ben! Ben was here, he’s, you have to, you have to get him,  _ stop him--”  _

“Calm down,” Poe muttered. “We know everything, Rey. Ben told us. Everything.” 

“What?” 

“We know what you’ve been doing.” 

“What I’ve--  _ no.” _

“Just--”

“Poe.  _ Listen to me,”  _ Rey said frantically. “It wasn’t me.  _ It was Hux.”  _

“You really expect me to believe--”

“ _ Ben shot me.” _

“We know--”

“No. No, you don’t. I found him and Hux with Tarkin. I followed them into the building and they were. It’s Hux. Hux is the General!” 

“Say what you want, Rey,” Poe sighed. “But we know what happened. Ben told us everything. You’re not getting away with this.”

“He was  _ here, both of them,  _ they were here, I think they’re going to run, Poe, please, you have to believe me, please,  _ uncuff me!”  _

Poe shook his head and stood to leave; after everything, he couldn’t be alone with her. Not like this. But then his phone rang. 

“Dameron. Hey, Mitaka. Yeah. I. What? Are you. Are you sure?”

“What? What is it?” Rey demanded. 

Poe lowered the phone, and stared at Rey, wide eyed. “You put alerts on Hux’s bank accounts?” 

“Yeah. yeah, a couple weeks ago. What--”

“He. He emptied them. A few hours ago. All of them.” Poe stared at the phone in his hand. Ben’s voice echoed in his head. _I did what I had to do._ _I’m sorry._

Then his hand fell. “Oh. Oh my god.” 

 

~~~

 

All three apartments were empty. 

Ben’s. Hux’s. And Phasma’s. That one came like a kick to the gut. 

Ben and Phasma’s accounts were untouched, but Hux’s had been cleaned. He’d had a system in place. All it took was a few key strokes and every single dollar he had disappeared into the void, wired away and completely untraceable. They found the plane Hux had hired easily enough. It landed in Ireland-- on a private airstrip it hadn’t been headed for. The pilot was still on board when the Irish authorities found it-- dead, with one star carved into each shoulder. The flight attendant had somehow earned three. 

The General had left them one more message, written in blood on the bathroom door:  _ They are in the very wrath of love, and they will go together. Clubs cannot part them. _

And there was no trace of them at Hux’s holdings in the countryside. The man who tended the property said Master Hux hadn’t been there in over a year. 

They were in the wind.  

Poe sat at his desk and stared at the note they’d found, waiting for them in Ben’s desk, so neatly written, so neatly displayed. 

He couldn’t stop staring at it. 

Finn said, “Poe. Baby. Please. Let’s just go home.” 

“You need sleep,” Rey piped up from behind him, straightening the papers on her desk while Jessika waited by the door holding her purse. She shouldn’t be back at work yet, but she’d insisted. And really, they needed her, what with two detectives gone, and the chief too-- he’d been leaving early most days to be with Leia. Poe didn’t think she needed it-- she had Han and Chewie both staying with her too, and she hadn’t even cried when Rey had told her what Ben had said-- but then, he didn’t know her like Luke did. And her son had. Ben. He’d-- 

Poe stared down at the note and knew Ben had meant it as an explanation, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. 

He’d written it casually, but carefully. Poe could see  _ Ben  _ in every line, in the very curve of his ‘S’s and the dots on his ‘I’s. Only one line. 

And instead of his name, he’d signed it with a single star.   
_His unkindness may defeat my life, but never taint my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE END. 
> 
> GAH. I can't believe this is the end of this story! I've said it before but this is the longest project I've ever completed and that's largely because of you! Thank you so much for reading and commenting and yelling at me on tumblr (https://ellabesmirched.tumblr.com/ just sayin) You all have brought me SO MUCH joy and I am constantly overwhelmed by your support. 
> 
> Thank you. <3 
> 
> I hope this is everything you wanted the end of this story to be. I tried. :P 
> 
> AND OF COURSE. THANK YOU, AJAX. You make me a better writer and also you chase away all my insecurities and are literally THE. BEST. FRIEND. OK? 
> 
> And THANK YOU Archistratego. <3 Your comments are amazing and your read through helped SO MUCH and I love chatting with you just saying. <3
> 
> THAT'S IT! THE END! 
> 
> :D 
> 
> Thank you all. <3<3<3


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